I'm in a familiar place. Have I been here before? I feel I know this place, yet even as I turn something appears to have changed. It is still the same place, but not quite identical to what it was just a moment ago. Like a new performance of an old symphony, its intonation is different, and in the difference between its present and past incarnations something new has been said in a language too subtle for words. Objects and situations that were once thought to have a fixed identity, a generic "self", now possess personality, flow and flavor. All permanent categories are defeated as the richness of the particular impresses upon me that in this landscape, if I am to benefit fully, attention is both required and rewarding. Those of us who have felt the difference nod to each other in silent aknowledgement, knowing that at the end of specificity lies silence, and what is made speaks for itself, not in words, but in presences, ever changing, liquid...
