the horizon, where the sky and the earth meet, is always elsewhere, a promised place where these two elements come together. a metaphor, an orienting, a promise of transition, change, transcendence. a place where the corporeal and spiritual meet, or are cleaved apart. also, here, the space between narrative and documentary, fact and fiction, is scratched between two voices. jayne love reads a text i wrote for her, short sentences on the concept of the horizon and the briefest suggestion of narrative collide with pieces of richard (oswan) williams' beautiful, rum-fueled living room sermons to me. when i was twenty i lived in richard and his wife mary’s apartment, the site of their voodoo spiritual temple in new orleans. of course, as priests and priestesses richard and mary spoke often of death, transcendence, ethics and health. our days were slow and filled with philosophical rumination, richard a brilliant old man schooling a young wandering wonderer. i recorded most everything on cassette tapes back then and some have made it here to the present. to this horizon we’re at now.