For all the world I cannot see beyond creation. Its hidden door lie beneath me and I see its shadows beginning to form on my skin. From the early extension of liberalist thought amid the harbourings of the genesis to the existentialist applause echoing the universe I find everything richly steeped in the jewel of my eye. The illustration presented here moves the universe into its natural position in which the water is divided thus purifying as the darkness retracts itself after its penetration. I am of course referring to the very moment of creation recalled in the Zohar. In my rudimentary understanding of Shinto, water encompasses all five elements. It is also extremely sexual. I have tried to capture the notion of the division of the waters within this image. The moment the sacred hymen was fractured and time began. For all the world was created in a split second and lay in preparation for life. This petit mort has breathed us into existence and we recreate it from day to day without really knowing why. This living, breathing potential with her uncanny ability to spew forth more of the same until the universe itself groans under its weight sweated in the microcosm until infinity itself fold in on itself and die. There is no energy in ritual any more, no enthusiasm. We are children learning by rote and reciting hollow, empty meaningless echoes of a former age. We do not feel what we say. We do not see what we feel. We do not live it and breathe it any more. We are as hollow as the shells we call our abode and blind as the rats chewing through the membrane of our existence. I want you to feel what I see and what I record, this is only the beginning.