The Flow of Life
by Armando Ortiz
Art is the medium through which culture is diffused and exchanged. Culture may be suppressed, but the real story is being played out now.
I’ve paid to see beauty, I have touched great booty. I can say that I’ve traveled far, and had foreign conversations, alienated a few and sought by many.
Cultural, not civilized, the cabarets and street vendors, that let us relive our hungers of desert dreams. Waking up not knowing what’s ahead. The bridges to unexplored lands, oasis of thought, are still over there standing like granite pillars of memory.
Culture is language, a ying yang of theories, that reach our ear, painting a watercolor with sounds of thunder, and washes that streak on the canvas, a musical center of sounds.
How do you maintain sanity when beauty is everywhere?!
Time passes by, numerous crossroads, endless flow of people float, moving forward, toward unknowns, going down that eternal way, where the ashes are taken away, and like paper-mâché boats that aimlessly navigate; the widening current becomes our stay.
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