Find a City, Find a City to Live In . . .

Last night I dreamed. Or the night before: no matter. A perfect city, a perfect universe. Seen from afar: no place we could ever reach - too far away beyond the 11th dimension. But somehow we'd got there: we could see it all before us; and in the classic falling dream, the only way to get there was to let go: to comprehend the immense distance between 'up' here and 'down' there, and to accept that, whilst it would take one hundred years of expert rock climbing to descend to this perfect plane, and that's once you'd done five years in vertigo basecamp, that acceptance might lead you straight there. But when you got there, you just might not feel so important, in your shiny space suit and all, as you do up here. But what other choice do we have? Eventually, sooner or later, we must choose to fall - to trust in the process of falling, and in its arrival.