Absolutely heartbreaking and so, so beautiful. 

Sent from my iPhone

> On 10 Apr 2014, at 16:42, Alan Sondheim <[email protected]> wrote:
> 
> 
> 
> The New Home
> 
> http://www.alansondheim.org/mynewhome.mp4
> 
> The New Home online was waiting. The Old Home was dark
> and the lights in the Old Home were dark and the electric
> was on and was dark. In the New Home magnetism and
> electricity we're at ninety degrees and entangled; in the
> Old Home, electricity was lonely and would not come out
> to make the Brilliant World. In the Old Home the faucets
> made the sound of rushing air and in the New Home there
> were many facets of the Flowing World. The Flowing World
> was bright and brilliant and the Brilliant World was
> bright and flowing. The Old Home was everywhere I would
> be and the New Home would become a Flowing Memory.
> Outside the wind blows and branches rattle against the
> house. The New Home is not secure and is vulnerable and
> the people are sad there because the Old Home has no
> wind and no energy or force or momentum and the Old Home
> has no Flowing Calculus. We are going to the Old Home
> and that is the Song of the Brilliant Swan but we are
> now among the New Home and that is a home of Flowing
> Delight.
> 
> Then I did realize that my genre is that of the retardation
> of reality, image upon image, video upon image, all forms
> of recording, from every place, making the place a home, in
> a way that almost guarantees me a sense of mourning, loss,
> at the end of the day, every day a sweeping into the relay
> of night. As if I were born homeless, or into a play of
> home which falls apart, the ground seeps away beneath me.
> And there were the mines collapsing beneath the ground
> where I was from. And holes opening there, and houses
> in disarray, cracking. And I realize that the number of
> images and sounds and movements might betray the seeping,
> might hold things in place for a moment longer, glaciers
> retained within their historic limits, life on this planet
> momentarily satiated with the slaughter so far. I will
> build my home there, not out of memory, but out of the
> currency of this time, this now, a holdfast in the
> ravaged ocean. I am there now, you will find me, but I
> will not be there forever, I will have been gone before you.
> 
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