Along the Yang-Tze: a graphic manipulation, hint of a poem, and pseudo-dialog by T Newfields

An-Yi:     I can hardly read this junk.

BhŠratŽ:  This poem isn't meant to be read Ð just experienced.

An-Yi:    What kind of nonsense is that?

BhŠratŽ:  Reading is just one way of experiencing. Many facets of life have no words.

	With bottle of w 
	ine I float through rivers of t 
	ime past willows and p 
	lum blossoms falling g 
	racefully towards the sea 
	History here seems deep and eve 
	n though the silt is thick 
	waters flow on: 
	beings are mere blips
	Gazing at the Yang-Tze
	the river seems to speak through
	shades of viridian, emerald, and green
	For a while I ignore the smokestacks -
	drifting, drifting, drifting . . . 
	Yang-tze . . . see . . . dizzy . . . sea . . .