The following poem is inspired by musings on my practice of making and readings by Anthropologist Tim Ingold such as The Textility of Making.
———————— Walking is like making
The next step
because of the one before it, the way it is.
A process of following and becoming
Always varied, like an open line,
no beginning or end,
just moving, simply being
There isn’t A or B:
It’s the inbetween.
This is it
The path widens, curves
Can you see it through the fog?
Wind in your eyes, diffused sun
or sunburnt and breezy?
Up, down, repeat
It may look the same,
but never is —————————————