No hill in line. No tree in front. No john above. No wet beneath.
No mirrored hall or bush too tall, no stove with sleep or land too deep No street too high or wall you'll die, no number four, no squared off door No poisoned corner corner corner corner - where's that f**king mirror
No stop. Look. Go. No door face door.
No decisions without my secret compass. No evil. No doubt. No end.
No.
Fengshui. Somehow, the masters forget about smell, sound and touch. Ask one and bewilderment will never have looked so complete; it is all about the seen and the no-that-can't-be-done. They forget about exceptions to the no because their books only speak of rules, not when and how they can be broken.
Fengshui. The subversive art of sight, smell, taste, touch, sound and yes.