Un // Bound
The key is a flower
The flower is a blade
The blade is a key
In an old outbuilding belonging to my dad and his family, I found a very old copy of Ovid’s Metamorphosis, translated by Rolfe Humphries. I’ve only read the first passage so far, but I’m looking forward to a backwards journey through time, right to the point of creation, when all things differentiated from all other things. A nice reminder that I was once part of all those things that trouble me — undifferentiated myself.
Good luck, everyone, surviving the hard sun of midsummer. May your blade become a key.
