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if underneath the obvious thing was always a less obvious slightly disconcerting treasure, if that was a rule of thumb, say.  If that treasure was always something like a portal that, when found and claimed turned into a window, then a door.


If that door looked like it led to something truly strangely lovely but, when you passed through the world shifted into something far less recognizable.  If in that world now, nothing at all is obvious and you are much more than slightly disconcerted but you trust the rule of thumb which says always more treasure, just look.


But say everything goes dark or your eyes stop working, either or neither reason registers so how can you look, then?  But say you do. But say also you can only notice you’re still looking without eyes or light slowly, like you’re embedding a french language after spending months in France or Quebec or Haiti.


If the noticing is a tiny tiny light that moves like a mosquito just outside your vision, distracting you while you search for treasure, but when you look right at it it disappears.


Say now, there are no more thumb rules, or thumbs, even.  Nothing to measure with, just keep- looking with no-eyes or no-light, whichever it is it doesn’t matter.


If it doesn’t matter and you can’t but you still look and the pin light of noticing gets imperceptibly bigger, more like a june bug.

If you are in this place of lost but you know that where you are, you chose it, if it’s alarmingly uncomfortable but also abundant and rich, that’s where art gets made, say.

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