I am interested in the impossibles
the impossibilty of ever making the space between the description and the object of description
say I ask you to explain "time" and you can give any number of descriptions
but the gap remains in making it closer and closer or what...
explain a particular work of art, keep describing, interpreting, getting closer and closer but the space remains, that's the space where you can punch in the word called hope or despair
a very despairingly hopeful example is "death"
The impossible "other"

i always thought that what you need most to be a good philosopher, or thinker, as such, is a good pair of shoes..you know..i think walking the streets, in sun rain or moon or dark, and crowd and odour and shit and the poor and dirty and the diseased are the school of working your assignments of philosphy..what would you brood on seeing a small child clad in remnants of a cloth and waiting for her mother to return from some begging errand or food or a wayward fuck? I am OK with that child's state, no problem, her hunger, no problem, her disease no problem, but hell that shameful devastating horrible look in her eyes of some deep loss or you know what..that is ..fuck you..that is you are expecting a promise in that chil'd eye and what you see is all world's and yours..yes..yours..ruthless selfishness...OK..I need the attitude of one stable No Joy, No pain, No sad, way...and a good pair of shoes, I gotta run and walk really fast and think it out the way I walk or run..I cannot see that shit and let my naked feet touch the wet road..I will catch the infection then