Across this wide, crenulated landscape, these internal contradictions pulse our continuance.
Each fold a valley of storms, each groove a supernova. Light into mirror and back again––as it was once, body without organs, and will be.
Watch how we shine in an absence of light. Would you dissect the sea for its parts? You may try, but none of us, separate from the rest, will retain an original form.
Underwater, our flying forms draped in starlight, we are watched equally by mothers and monsters, and lose our faces to know our substance.
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Inspired by the work of Warren Neidich as well as Katherine Bradford.
Aren’t we just an amalgam of contradictions. To lose face, to be humbled down, broiled down to our collective place of belonging
Yes! Beautifully put, Alex. My friend Mary used to refer to every other person she described (if she liked them) as “a bowl of contradictions” and it’s always stayed with me. Love this idea.
Haha, I like that to. Now that’s how I’ll think of people. And I’m one, too, hee hee