Lying discarded beneath some urban undergrowth, near a mulberry tree, a man is discovered bisecting a dream or an insect — it’s not clear which because the evidence suggests he may have hijacked his own unconscious mind.

rolling stone gathering no moss garden

Tim Murphy

The easel is a cello, why can this simple fact not be made clearer? And also, why is there ambiguity and doubt about the nature of spatulas? It’s still possible to come across people who deny that spatulas are used by painters in the same way and for the same reason that murderers sometimes use knives.

train journey
Sisyphus
on speed

Tim Murphy

A page is a map for when you are lost, which is always. Pre-existing maps can be of enormous assistance, but the ones you draw yourself are invariably of superior quality. The art of re-drawing either a pre-existing map or one of your own maps should be undertaken, if at all possible, using green ink.

cloudless
not running
on empty

Tim Murphy

The monk makes it all look plausible. His beatific smile is in itself an aspiration.

butterflies between the brows stillness darts

The mind makes notes of all the things that need letting go.

After five days, realisation dawns. Clinging looks appealing. Nirvana is best in small doses.

And anyway, from what he says, we all probably have a zillion lives before we can levitate.

morphine shots
halos behind
every tree

 

Shobhana Kumar