In Basho's housethere are no walls,no roof, floorsor pathway -nothing to showwhere it is,yet you can enterfrom any directionthrough a doorthat's always open.You hear voicesthough no oneis near you -you'll listen withoutknowing you do.Time and timeyou get up to greeta stranger comingtowards you.No one ever appears.Hours and seasonslose their names -as do passing clouds.Rising moon and setting sunno longer cast shadows.Sounds drift inlike effortless breathing -frogsplash, birdsong,echoes of yourown footsteps.It all ceasesto exist in Basho's house -the place you've enteredwithout knowingyou've taken a step.Sit down. Breathein, breathe out.Close your tired eyes.Basho is sitting beside you -a guest in his own house.--Peter Skyzynecki
[via beauty we love]
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