Cohesion is a
promise we cannot

keep. Things fly
apart. That is

nature’s way.
Sometimes in our

foolish moments
we think that art

can stop the dis-
integration.

Art can’t start or
stop anything.

See: the paint is
already fading.

The woman
in the painting

is receding to
the farthest edge

of the universe,
or of what

will be left there
when we reach

that bitter end.