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Subi Samuel. Ruminations On. And With.

My dearest bro

On the exhibition!

To hold our innermost conscience alert, which with every fully formed experience tells us whether it is thus, as it now stands, altogether to be answered for in its truthfulness and integrity: that is the foundation of every artistic production. And surely all art is the result of one's having been in danger, of having gone through an experience all the way to the end, where no one can go any further. The further one goes, the more private, the more personal, the more singular an experience becomes, and the thing one is making is, finally, the necessary, irrepressible, and, as nearly as possible, definitive utterance of this singularity.

Also, we owe to memory not only the increase of our knowledge, and our progress in rational inquiries, but many other intellectual pleasures. Indeed, almost all that we can be said to enjoy is past or future; the present is in perpetual motion, leaves us as soon as it arrives, ceases to be present before its presence is well perceived, and is only known to have existed by the effects which it leaves behind. The greatest part of our ideas arises, therefore, from the view before or behind us, and we are happy or miserable according as we are affected by the survey of our life, or our prospect of future existence.

I loved every frame.

The Stay!

In a way, the experience was enlightening as well, by no means had I lived and seen things of that kind, and come to think of it, I am learning to see. I do not know why it is, but everything penetrates more deeply into me and does not stop at the place where until now it always used to finish. I have an inner self of which I was ignorant. Everything goes thither now, what happens there I do not know.

On Departure!

And we: spectators, always, everywhere, looking at everything, and never from! Who has turned us around like this, so that whatever we do, we always have the look of someone going away? Just as a man on the last hill showing him his whole valley one last time, turns, and stops, and lingers – so we live, and are forever leaving.

It was excruciating to leave you all.

Subi Samuel!

While I stood facing the infinite ocean on those colossal stairs at the Taj, the gale blew so incessantly in my face, and right there I felt a chill in my bones. My mind, as it usually does, wandered, and I comprehended that my fear of the ocean stemmed perhaps due to the inner fear that I carry of death itself. I figured then, that surely, there's no room for debate that there is an element of death in life, and I was astonished that each one of us pretends to ignore it: death, whose unpitying presence we experience in each turn of fortune we survive because we must learn how to die slowly. We must learn to die: all of life is in that. When thoughts such as these were traversing my senses, I turned and I saw you: all of a sudden, my nomadic feelings seemed to settle, and settle because I knew I have my brother beside me. My brother, who is my protector, who loves me like the infinity of the ocean, and I realised from that instant that I don’t ever have to be afraid of death, or for that matter the ocean, after all, like your love, it is deep, abundant and immeasurable.

Your younger bro
- F