I once read that every thing and every one is essentially perfect. We are exactly how we were always meant to be, “perfect” only because our imperfections define us as so. Literally and figuratively, where we stand now is a product of what we have done to bring ourselves here. What is and what will be seen by our eyes and our eyes only exists for our viewing. Why we are attracted to certain things and not others is beyond our control, but falls under the same obvious circumstances.
The lights are dimmed and the mood sustained by the persistent grey of a Brooklyn sky; A short-lived drizzle creeps slyly down the whitewashed windows, peering inside upon a half robed woman. Her Ink smudged fingers return to the photograph whose accidental stain of yesterday morning’s coffee leaves aromatic pleasantries adrift in the air. The photograph is one of her eighth grade self, bare-faced with an expression of stark mystery, almost reflectory of the one she is boasting now sitting before it. Silently, she pauses in recollection of the sensation she attained at that time, when the camera was fresh to her hands…
Paved by the old and trudged upon by the present are the streets that stand for the sake of our heavy footsteps. The new world is what has become of the old; the present, a representation of the evolution, or maybe antithesis, of the past. Either way: what and whomever has at one point walked, breathed, or merely stood upon its grounds still remains… always have and always will.
Observe a crisp delicacy in the act of isolationism.
Listen to the cunning precision in an absence of sound.
Pause where desolation of space coincides with character lost.
And whatever you do… do not disrupt the quiet.
Atlanta heat waves are oppressive, and convincing people to leave their hermit-like conditions and venture outside is difficult, but the first-ever Festival on Ponce attracted thousands and gave local and national artists a great opportunity to show and sell their work.
We encounter madness on a daily basis, hopeful that clarity will soon emerge. The veil between us and the rest leaves us isolated and our vision, cloudy. It’s a funny thing when we slightly alter our perception and come to the realization that the rest is merely an extension of ourselves.
