Today I am the glass. Looking inside and through.  Shatterable, potentially shattered thanks to much confusion, yes ambivalent, and too much that permits me to feel, only, as fixed as the slippage of the late, quite possibly last snow. Like my snow man named 'wistful' I melt and slide in and out, like the dialectics of 'inside and outside' described so well by Gaston Bachelard. Are you unable to attain a centre? Me too, and my snowman. For those of you unfamiliar with Bachelard's work, let me tell you, The Poetics of Space is a truly great read, the quotations, one can establish only too well at work within oneself. They are rich and plentiful in this greedily genius text, how I wish we were on first name terms. Where is the centre and is it achievable in this chaotic space we/I now occupy? Should I leave that question open she wonders... yes! I am not in the clutches of any university now! So clearly not entirely dissolved yet I shall leave you with a favorite quote or two to digest, ingest or do whatever you like with...   

'but what a spiral man's being represents. And what a number of invertible dynamisms there are in this spiral! One no longer knows right away whether one is running toward the centre or escaping'. p 214

'Outside and inside form a dialectic of division, the obvious geometry of which binds us as soon as we bring into play in metaphorical domains. It has the sharpness of the dialectic of yes and no, which decides everyhting. [...] In this " horrible inside-outside hell" of unuttered words and unfulfilled intentions, within oneself, being is slowly digesting its nothingness [...the] hum of [...] being continues both in time and in space. In vain it gathers its remaining strength. It has become the backwash of the expired being'. p 217