Credo

As close as I get to a Credo. Many of the recent works have been circling these ideas.

Within one is an atlas containing maps of unpromised lands, visited in thought, but not yet discovered or founded. Perhaps those who go about exploring and who see signs, can tell toward which of these futures the winds drive us. For these ports one cannot draw a route on a map or set a date for landing. At times, all one needs is a brief glimpse, an opening in the midst of an incongruous landscape, the dialogue of two passersby meeting in the crowd. Setting out from there, one puts together, piece by piece, his home, made of fragments, mixed with the rest, of instants separated by intervals, of signals one sends out, not knowing who receives them. Because the land toward which this journey tends is discontinuous in time and space, now scattered, now more condensed, does not mean the search for it will cease.

If the last landing place can only be the infernal city and it is here that, in ever narrowing circles, the current is drawing us, seek and learn to recognize who and what, in the midst of the inferno, are not inferno, then make them endure, give them space.

(excerpt from Calvino's Invisible Cities-tweaked a bit)