Packaging the invisible

The photograph, the title, the name, are not the thing.

The cover, the case the sleeve is not the thing.

Nor is the CD, the LP or the file or tape – not the words or the music, the melody, the song or symphony.

The early morning light formed into golden fingers by the silhouetted leaves and branches of a tree, reflected and refracted by a trillion tiny droplets of cool floating foggy dew captured in the frame of a half opened window and mingled with the curling smoke of sandalwood – the untouchable, unnameable present.

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