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  • In a world filled with screens and billboards and the glossy colors of advertising and "pop", I feel more and more starved, like a diet of only candy apples and lollipops. Once in a while, we need to look at something real, filled with texture, laced with time.

    Because the eyes feast too.

    On things worn and weathered,
    Marked by use,
    By history,
    Of textures, cracked, torn, scratched, scuffled, distressed,
    All the toils and joys of the human drama.
    Like in Italy, where I can feel the earth in the grain of their voice.

    In Valldemossa today, where the town's isolation has made time stand still, I chance across a small library in the cell of a monastery, where monks used to gather once a week to discuss theosophy and the cycle of the stars. Seeing those books torn at the spine, faded and cracking under time felt like nourishment for the eyes. Like looking at an oil painting by an old Dutch master. Or drinking wine and talking and eating and suddenly feeling the trills and movement of a song I've known forever.

    Let's remember to look at something real once in a while. Because the eyes, they feast too.
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