Marginalia to Phenomenology of Perception

We are like fishes swimming in the sea of sense, bounded above by the superior element, but unable to breathe it pure or penetrate it. —William James, Pragmatism The many-angled houses of my sight are traced from an elusive diagram beyond compulsion, the intangible. And pieces of my eye are alien to marginal, entreating countrysides eclipsed by focus. New horizons crease the bounding ripples of my plunging stride, entrusting their surroundings to suspense: perspectives radiate integrity. This cosmos of elective habitats— exposed from every avenue in space by mirror-facet furniture—enjoins the recognition of assembled time. Self-evident to early innocence, inevitable through experience, the house subsists, a vein of future past. I pluck it from the course of evidence, contriving an abrupt eternity. The obverse of my action supplements descriptions of the obvious. The past itself is altered by my emphases. Coherence is a limit of decay accumulating in conspiracy: exploded…