the reluctant illustrator

Bahamut - ii

the reluctant illustrator -

(part two)

Memory is a curious thing.

What gets anchored? What gets jettisoned? What gets obscured and overwritten? What never even gets registered? It's like a curiously fungible, plastic, amorphous, sticky substance – or maybe it's like a spongy, squidgy, slippery thing full of holes and hidden nooks and crannies. Or maybe, it's like a cloud formation – appearing out of nothing, disappearing into nothing, momentarily there with its shapes and shadows, dragging along its noisy causes and its effects – and yet it is only ever an intangible mist of temporary associations.

What a weird substance (memory) from which to construct the temple of Self – that thing we hold to be so solid and which at best can only remain equal parts there and not there – like a persistent hallucination perhaps?

For memory's sake, here's the last drawing from the previous post on Bahamut...

...Which Rocks Gently on the Back of an Immense Blue-Green Tortuga...

Bahamut - Part Two

And the Tortuga's Scaly Feet are Firmly Placed...
On the Topmost of Seven Craggy Mountains
Which Arise from a Vast and Arid Plain...
...of Drifting Fetid Yellow Dust
And the Plain is Balanced Precariously...
on...
The Top of a Thin Green Acacia Tree...
That Grows...

... and for context's sake, here's Hazmat Modine performing their song: Bahamut

Stay tuned for more as Bahamut takes shape - share any comments.

As always, thanks for reading and indulging!
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