You know that’s pointless, right? Right? Why write?
There’s no way in, to get in from the jiggery pokery of words. There’s no way out, when you’re in, to tell the others of this world what it’s about.
Only, the words play their part, they need to. Tangible example, feeling the structure, even seeing it, is what really matters. To teach, words come into the mix. I’m not teacihng, or preaching, Each to his own, so what is happening here? Maybe only writing, as an emanation, a symptom of practice. A hymn to the journey. Notes while travelling.
I don’t know if you’ve ever tried reading a guidebook before visiting a city. It is very hard work. And then, when you’re there, there’s not that much time. Perhaps you find the relevant passages to digest what you’ve seen, and find new angles, as you begin to work out what’s where. And then, having been, to understand and internalise what you’ve seen.
Maybe this is that. Maybe this is not.