The boy above does not have blonde hair now. It is not golden as the sun and he is not sitting in a lab studying cloud patterns in 3d models as atom by atom this was cut at the stem.
There is not a man sitting reflecting on a life of science and wondering about what could have been in something in the arts (he was lost in 1987 in a teenage version of
the boy above in a struggle with math,possible futures and choices..). The man did not publish papers on hypothetical weather event models that are immersive and his phd vanished into vapor somewhere over Oklahoma one day while a boy in California applied for an English degree during a heat wave and a link of dull afternoons.
When the pieces are collected after the crash and pieced together as best as can be in recollection and collection of artifacts in a hangar is it there at all? or is it a constellation of tiny pieces and the concept and notion of what once was that makes it whole?
There is a photo here of several cities and college adventures never born collaged together.
This is the exact measure of 12 journalistic articles, a 2 year professional bowling career's trophies and prize money on a shelf made of mahogany, the photo albums of archaeological digs as a grad student ....they all float astronautic in unsung molecules.........thwarted detritus...........near satellites clipped from invisible almost rube goldberg contraptions of small incidents, questions and perceptions in time
There is not a sense of measure here. There is not a sense of time and it is graphed above. The trajectory of all the paths unborn that tick of in seconds like clouds of arrows invisible