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Infinite Perception

Infinite Perception

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Venice 1947

You might also say that my mask and I are equally real. Real and unreal, yin and yang, the mysterious way and the M25. Tribes, belonging, separation. Time and space, concrete and snow.

All different things. Built differently out of different stuff. Yet perceived by me as just things, just Strange Textures of ourselves.

Infinite variety of perception being aware of itself.

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