Autumn light

Our words carve out boundaries between one thing and another of what we see. We name this and that: the light, the leaves, the pond. We add with our adjectives something only human, but indifferent to nature: there is a “naked” man! Nature has no thoughts: it has other ways of coordinating, of not bumping into each other… of growing together. I know it’s only a minimal intuition of what’s going on, yet I stand in admiration, watching and looking with my eyes at this world that enters me, and I’m sure redraws my thoughts and synapses. Being naked is like opening the window when you wake up and take a breath of fresh air. Our culture seems to be made this way: I forbid you something so that you can desire it more, even dare to steal it. It has already happened… in a gadda da vida (in the Garden of Eden – Iron Butterfly, 1968)