How Do You Capture Someone Who Was Always Slipping Away?

Thought and life are as the poles asunder.

- Virginia Woolf, Orlando

theories which isolate art and its appreciation by placing them in a realm of their own, disconnected from other modes of experiencing, are not inherent in the subject-matter, but arise because of specifiable extraneous conditions. […] Theory can start with and from acknowledged works of art only when the esthetic is already compartmentalized, or only when works of art are set in a niche apart instead of being celebrations, recognized as such, of the things of ordinary experience. Even a crude experience, if authentically an experience, is more fit to give a clue to the intrinsic nature of esthetic experience than is an object already set apart from any other mode of experience.

- John Dewey, Art as Experience

Fragmentary Face of King Khafre

ca. 2520-2494 BCE | Old Kingdom, Egypt | Egyptian alabaster

We live by the waters breaking out of the heart.

Anne Carson, Kinds of Water

It is all an illusion (which is nothing against it, for illusions are the most valuable and nessecary of all things, and she who can create one is among the world’s greatest benefactors),

- Virginia Woolf, Orlando

Tomorrow either I will murder you or you will rinse the knife in water

Garous Abdolmalekian, Flashback tr. Ahmed Nadalizadeh and Idra Novey

For, when what he knows as art is relegated to the museum and gallery, the unconquerable impulse towards experiences enjoyable in themselves finds such outlet as the daily environment provides.

- John Dewey, Art as Experience

he does not understand the reason for the moon

Garous Abdolmalekian, Long Poem of Loneliness tr. Ahmed Nadalizadeh and Idra Novey

I know what the river is like at night. I know how it tongues the dark and swallows the rain and how it never ever sleeps. I know how it sings in its chains, how steadily it backstrokes into eternity, how if you stand beside it in the deeps of its throat it seems to be saying, saying, saying, only what you cannot tell.

Niall Williams, History of the Rain

Do not seek the because - in love there is no because, no reason, no explanation, no solutions.

Anaïs Nin, Henry and June