In the no-man’s land between Max and Chick we find an alley of sorts. A space bound in rectilinear form by mere brick, wrought-iron, wood and the oxygen in between. Planar concrete and soil solid underfoot, as well as sky derricks above busily expressing Cartesian activity in furthering three-dimensional space.
But betwixt we find the anomaly — organic, human form, comprised of curves, sass and desire. The perfect complement to an otherwise orthogonal milieu. A ‘non-man’ in this no-man’s land.
Look fast — in today’s infotoxin-saturated atmosphere both the
yin and
yang are either actively quashed or pumped to caricatural levels where intrinsic essence is lost, leaving a grey egalitarian goo that is all too malleable to those in power with their nefarious machinations.
Find the curves between the parallels and you will find equilibrium.
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