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The Terminal Horizon Highway

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The Terminal Horizon Highway  The Terminal Horizon Tourist Bus Would you catch the Terminal Horizon bus? Travel sketches by metamodernist artist JJFBbennett The Long Highway Out here, the world ends not in silence, but in fire. The asphalt bleeds into cracked red earth, stretching toward a bruised horizon where the sky refuses to cool. Behind the glass, you drive chasing ghosts through a desert that forgot rain a lifetime ago. Beneath the Scorch Every road leads deeper into the furnace. Even below the surface, the rock fissures and weeps, hot steam rising through subterranean fractures where molten veins pulse in the dark, feeding an ancient, unforgiving heat. Broken Arteries What we built couldn’t hold. Rails twist into the dunes, swallowed by iron sand and wind. Bridges split down the seam, concrete splintered into raw bone, tangled rebar, and dying wires crackling into the smoke. The machines stopped; the wasteland stayed. The Last Horizon And when the road finally runs out, the...

Ubud It happens in this time.

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It happens in this time. Within all of this hassell and bustle, there is peace to be found. It matters that our approach of founding is addressed. If we don't walk so fast,  if our minds are rested. We will have found this, where and whenever we intend understanding. Time were ritual is small,  place where space is eternal. There is a pattern to making sense. Personalised and collective. Forget the calling of the influential and competitive. Forget the combatants. Attempt to day dream. Fall over the drawn line. Re-position and let each door open wide. So much to see in so many small spaces. A universe in each unearthed cavity. There are many gods who nonsensically watch us. All whispering whilst we restrictively rant. They have privileged loss. They have fallen from superiority to obscurity. Their stories are silent whilst we are glorious in distraction. Fall with them, dream with them,  be at mind with them. Within each fall, the...

Godin vader

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Godin vader It is so easy to fall into battle. It takes time to realise respect. in daydreams I forget the grind. in stress I embrace the grip. How easy it is to not know yourself. Whilst busily manipulating the enemy we forget our own bleeding. it just seems easier to forget yourself in moments of battle.