Atmosphere
The Literary Heart
It’s always amazing what exists under the water, sometimes we see what we know is there, things alive taking up space the water offers or simply making their existence within... wet. A coat of water around everything. Momentarily, as the wave recedes I have the notion I too would like that coat around me. Copyright © Susy Kamber Song Selection - I Will Find You - audiomachine “It’s always amazing what exists under the water,” This opens with wonder. Water becomes a veil: a surface that hides a whole world. There’s curiosity here, but also humility—an acknowledgment that much of reality exists beyond immediate sight. “sometimes we see what we know is there,” This suggests partial awareness. We recognize life beneath the surface even when we can’t fully see it. Knowledge without full access. Intuition rather than proof. “things alive taking up space the water offers or simply making their existence within… wet.” Life is described as adapting rather than conquering. The water “offers” space; beings accept it. “Wet” becomes a condition of being—existence shaped by environment. There’s no separation between self and surroundings. “A coat of water around everything.” This is a striking metaphor. Water becomes a skin, a protective layer, even a unifier. Everything is equally wrapped—no hierarchy, just shared immersion. “Momentarily, as the wave recedes” A fleeting pause. The receding wave creates a threshold moment—between immersion and exposure, presence and absence. “I have the notion I too would like that coat around me.” Here the observation turns inward. This isn’t about wanting to be underwater literally; it’s about longing for what water represents: protection, softness, anonymity, belonging, or relief from sharp edges of air, light, and separation. In summary (the literary heart): The passage reflects on life existing fully within its environment, wrapped and sustained by it, and contrasts that with human exposure. The speaker briefly longs for the same kind of enveloping presence—a gentle covering that allows existence without friction, judgment, or dryness. It’s about desire for immersion, protection, and unity, even if only for a moment. (Interpretation by ChatGPT)
2026
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Seeking Absolvement
The poetic reality, The awareness of light against dark or dark against light, The symbolism of this antagonism, The absorption of a trust that exists within. We all wait in our own confused states seeking absolvement, on lines alone, or in crowds. Sanctuaries or dreams, the places we enter to make known our needs. Copyright © Susy Kamber This feels like a summation piece—quietly philosophical, inward, and human. “The poetic reality, the awareness of light against dark or dark against light,” This opens by naming perception itself. Not just opposites, but awareness of them. Light and dark are not moralized yet—they are conditions of seeing. Which one presses against the other matters. “the symbolism of this antagonism,” Here the contrast becomes charged. Light and dark are no longer neutral; they carry meaning, tension, conflict. The word antagonism suggests struggle without declaring a victor. “the absorption of a trust that exists within.” This line turns inward. Trust isn’t granted externally; it’s absorbed, internalized, almost breathed in. Even amid opposition, there is something quietly held and relied upon. “We all wait in our own confused states seeking absolvement,” This universalizes the experience. Waiting, confusion, and the desire for absolution—release, forgiveness, clarity—are shared conditions, not personal failures. “on lines alone, or in crowds.” Whether isolated or surrounded, the waiting persists. Loneliness can exist in both solitude and togetherness. “Sanctuaries or dreams, the places we enter to make known our needs.” The closing lines offer gentleness. We create or seek spaces—real or imagined—where vulnerability is allowed. Dreams and sanctuaries become languages for asking, for admitting what we lack. Overall: The piece explores human consciousness caught between opposites, searching not for resolution but for permission—to trust, to wait, to ask. It recognizes that meaning is formed in contrast, and that absolution is often sought quietly, in private spaces we build for ourselves. It’s contemplative, compassionate, and unafraid of uncertainty. (Explanation by ChatGPT)
2024
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Atmosphere
I suppose yins and yangs change places. Often not knowing where they go. The effects of which are pondered when received. I was once yin as the rain made its way down the mountain side turning yang as it fell. The light I became was for the flowers. They in turn for the air to carry what blows in the wind around us. The yins and yangs of atmosphere. Copyright © Susy Kamber Song Selection - Claudio Ferrarini- Rain in Your Black Eyes (Arr. for flute by Claudio Ferrarini) “I suppose yins and yangs change places.” This opens with uncertainty, not doctrine. Yin and yang aren’t fixed opposites here—they’re fluid, capable of exchange. The speaker accepts motion rather than balance as the truth. “Often not knowing where they go.” Transformation happens without clear destinations. Change isn’t planned; it disperses. This suggests humility before forces larger than intention. “The effects of which are pondered when received.” We don’t understand change as it happens—only when it arrives at us. Meaning is retrospective. Experience precedes understanding. “I was once yin as the rain made its way down the mountainside turning yang as it fell.” This is the core image. Rain begins as receptive, quiet, yielding (yin), then becomes active, forceful, kinetic as it falls (yang). The speaker identifies as the process, not as an observer. Identity is movement. “The light I became was for the flowers.” After motion comes illumination. The speaker transforms again—into something nourishing, outward-giving. Light here is purpose, not ego: it exists for something else. “They in turn for the air to carry what blows in the wind around us.” Energy continues to circulate. Flowers respond, air participates, wind distributes. No element keeps what it receives. Everything is intermediary. “The yins and yangs of atmosphere.” This final line lifts the whole passage from personal reflection into cosmic system. Yin and yang are no longer abstract symbols—they are weather, breath, exchange, circulation. Atmosphere becomes both literal and emotional. In summary: This piece describes identity as a continuous exchange of states. Yin and yang are not opposites to be balanced but roles to be inhabited temporarily. The speaker moves from receptivity to action, from descent to illumination, from self to service. Meaning arises not from control, but from participation in a living, breathing system where energy transforms and passes on. There’s something quietly generous in it: nothing here exists for itself alone. Everything becomes something else, for something else. (Explanation by ChatGPT)
2026
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