*Writing practice: to take a provocative image and immerse myself in the imaginary world, writing from a particular character point of view, emotion, or etc.
Meanwhile I travel to Egypt and have a picnic with some locals outside of the Sphinx’s dust bowl perch. She sits in the bowl, the widening circle or hole that she is sinking into. (Is the word SINK related to the word SPHINX?) The pyramid of Cheops looms I’m not sure how close, as it is so large and formidable, so geometrical and solid. It looks like it was thrown from the sky to land on the earth, that it could have landed on any side, any flat side but it chose the one it did for reasons…?
I don’t think I can scale the pyramid as I observe from a distance. The sides look rough but without purchase, no where to grip. The Sphinx’s face is destroyed, or rather is in the act of disintegration, although she could just be wearing a bulbous medical mask, or have a protuberance on her mouth under the mask. A giant bushy mouth beard.
In the hall I walk amongst titan columns so completely decorated with hieroglyphics as to be columnar comic books, decorated words of art extending up instead of out, telling stories I don’t know how to read. What are they describing, the construction of this hall? Who or what is Hypostyle? The other entrance is blocked by fallen columns and debris, I can’t get though that way. I return the way I came in, feeling small and foreign, listening and looking at language I don’t speak.
CELLOPHANE 