Monastérité

Photographs by
Stefan Dotter

Words by
Manuel Iljitsch

An alien evening air curiously slides along some
Rhododendron Campanulatum.
Vegan leather boots scrunch as I kneel: thatʼs all.
Oh: and the bullhorns blare and echo this one question
Iʼve been tormented by –

WHY (on earth, I mean) CAN NEW YORKERS
MEDITATE BUT BUDDHIST MONKS
CANʼT WEAR A KNICKS SHIRT?

without the snickering, I mean.

Just whatever.
I sense the Rhod; it senses back.

Fast forward:
THE OTHER IS AN INTERCHANGEABLE QUALITY:
YOUʼRE BIZARRE TO SOMEBODY,
DREAMLIKE TO SOMEBODY,
YOU DONʼT MAKE IMMEDIATE SENSE TO SOMEBODY:

isnʼt that the most beautiful thing?
or, to put it the Other way:
why wait for made-up homogeneity to save you?

the Other is multifaceted, sliced; the Other contradicts:
just like you do.

the Other is an island, it sure is.

THE SOLE ATOLL TO ACCEPT ALL TRAVEL.

So this is that: as I find rest in you,
you may find rest in me;

we both find resting restful, finally. And flower names
will be forgotten but the flowers bloom.

Rewind:
There will be no Knicks shirt in the following series,
and really:
the Knicks shirt has never been the point:

We are all (aficionados of each / a pretty wild bouquet for each)

Other.