don quixote in babylon

Everything begins with a letter you don’t remember. The handwriting is familiar, but the lines seem to know things you haven’t yet admitted to yourself. You read slowly. Nothing new. Just reminders. Calm.

Guitar sounds drift by like random thoughts. Time begins to move. It grows a garden in the middle of a busy city — and the garden lives by its own rules. Venus flytraps are waiting for Her. When She appears, a synthesized choir of plants tears through the smog and clouds of Babylon. Her dance is mesmerizing.

A little to the side sits an old Comanche. He explains nothing. He doesn’t interfere. He simply knows when something is finished and when it is not. He looks inward and from time to time, with a light hand, draws the note E from a glockenspiel.

What is an electric sheep? No one knows. The Comanche would say it is the very structure of Babylon — its mechanism. For the electric sheep, all of this was and will remain a game. So there is no need to try to understand it. Just accept the electric sheep.

And who are you in this story? I am almost certain you are Don Quixote. You came here to feel Babylon. You need this feeling as a reference point. Today, the city is safe for you. High stone walls protect you from the chaos that surrounds it.

And what surrounds it is a war of worldviews.

There will be no ending. Babylon is too complex a thing. Here, the ending is different for everyone.