A religious artifact stands imposingly, sanctimoniously reflecting the recondite sea beneath.
Plants and grass form affairs with birds and mammals, humans blur polysemous communal ties, amongst self-liberation and self-limitation.
The gold-inlay door tramples on the low façade of the earth with a supercilious defiance, but kowtows the high sky in adulation.
The glass incrustation patiently collects black and white stones of reality, downplays the six senses, magnifies the perception.
Everything lies inside the crystal of sin-catching, within the manifestation of a transitory space, 7 billion pairs of eyes engraved on the body of a white grain of rice, on top the mountain lays a temple of ink, hesitating, half wanting to leap, half keeping hold of subsistence.