A photo a day keeps the Doctor in play.
Snow melt flowing over a manhole cover in an alley. I am instantly fixated. Manhole covers are one of those things. One of those things that stare back at me like St. Paul’s mirror, darkly, a kind of mandala floating from the shadows of my manic mind. I get all mystical and twitchy around the edges. A manhole cover with clear water rippling over it really does it for my inner maniac.
I can tell you that I had a mystical experience staring at a manhole cover while cold water soaked into my shoes, but to speak or write about a mystical experience is a kind of subterfuge, anyway, since words quite literally fail. I took snapshots with the prosthetic device, but photography is another kind of failure, a different kind of lie.
The quality of the mystical experience is not related to the quality of the articulation of the mystical experience, and vice versa. Beware of eloquent mystics. A lunatic with a iPhone, now, that’s someone you can trust.