The written word can be powerful. That’s why I read, sometimes.
When I woke up this morning, I put on my shoes. I went for a walk, grabbed a coffee in the village, and tried to make sense of my Blogs. I’m so all over the place.
Then I saw it, The Writing On The Wall. It wasn’t exactly “Mene Mene Tekel Upharson”, but it was definitely writing on the wall. It wasn’t there yesterday. It happened in the middle of the night, the very night before the morning that I woke up searching for exegesis.
I tried to interpret the message by breaking it down into sections, The First clue was Poo.
There are arrows coming into Poo from 2 sides, that’s got to mean something? Then “Say Bon” gets into the message. Hmm, I think using my minimal bilingual skills.
And I ask you what does Poo Cru (with 2 dots over the u) mean? I mean, is that like the champagne of %#it , dry on the palette, salty with wit?
It appears to be white on brick with navy and red, whatever, but what I really like is the way the poetic absence of message fuses with the lack of technique. Is there deeper meaning that I’m missing?
Perhaps there are some clues near by. The Hood seems full of them. I photographically document them for dissemination and integration at a later time. People appear nervous as they observe what I’m doing. Do they know something I don’t? Should I be afraid? Are you?