A window points to depth

A wall reflects and absorbs flatness

All thats in the frame passes before being reached

 All ascribed to the crumbling surface is soaked up in a dry mouth

Idealism has depth

Realism has flatness

The place is flat

The Journey has depth

Love is depth and desire it flatness

Desire is to perform, desire is the start and the finish; its pants heavily

Love is where we get lost, it is the dark centre, it does not breathe

Flatenss comes first and last, the stage

Depth is the limboing flux between

We fall through depth

We jump from, fall from and land on flatness

Depth is motion

Flatness is stillness

Painting is flat, but must desire depth

Painting is still but must desire movement

History has depth, but a false depth

All depth is false

All depth decomposes into packagable flatness

The present is a flatness positioned in a depth, breathing in a depth

Depth collapses into flatness

Flatness expands into depth

This space is a living organism