Curve of a Line

You examine a curve you have made. It isn’t regular but it possesses a certain consistency, to your eye at any rate, even if it lacks geometrical purity (the clarity of the Zen circle is not your curve either). Your handwriting is done on a criss-cross notebook, but your line wanders off, and the same with your drawing. Your line avoids going in a straight line.

You don’t know the intended curve of a line before it comes into being. You look at the blank page for writing or drawing on, and you may feel a certain increase in anxiety. Then you start. The line is following a curve. And one line is leading to another. The ends of your curves rarely meet, the ends with the beginnings.

Time moves on, and the curve is becoming a fold. A fold is that which is being dragged though time to curve over itself, and somewhere/somehow one curve always imPLIcates another (La Plie = the fold: with more than a nod to Gilles Deleuze, but you are not a philosopher in the continental or any other tradition). Folded, your curve is a contribution to a collective action, you might say. But you do not know how or when your curve will meet up with another. Many of your curves will often not be seen to be doing so. Or perhaps some are in the process of being rejected.

Another curve may at this very moment be creeping up on you unsuspectedly. You may not even notice. You wonder as it imPLIcates you.


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