you wouldn’t think i’d be walking through a blizzard when i took this picture, but i sure was.
it’s been going on for a while.
day or night, clear or cloudy sky, it doesn’t matter.
it’s sortalike strolling through tiny, magic snowstorms, the kind where snowflakes explode and tingle surreptitiously upon my cheek and eyes, causing my hand and fingers to search for these phantoms and wonders at points of impact, something the passerby might construe to be a “facial tic” or small madness on my part. i move slowly and casually to mask my anxiety which probably makes me look like a junkie.
i guess there’s no graceful way of straddling dimensions.
i consider these moments to be utmost magnificent windows into dreams and wishes, those places my eyes find each time i blink.
sometimes, i find myself in the darnedest places in the bat of an eye.
for a moment, as my fingertips searched for the phantom snowflake, i wondered if there was a game afoot being played by that lizard guy – the one who sounds like eduardo ciannelli and looks like omar sharif (or any of his associates) – and if my low-edged humanity, that which keeps me safe from being rendered a meal and a suit by these intergalactic gourmand hustlers, was being taken for a ride.
last week, in the blink of an eye, i found myself in a room in a house. i remember cream-colored drapes billowing gently at an open window as a radiant, dark-haired, petite individual sat in a rust-colored vinyl armchair, the kind familiar to hospital waiting rooms and state-run offices, next to it.
“do you come here often?” her gruff, whispery voice inquired.
i opened my eyes.
i walked forward, raising my camera and lowering myself so i could shoot just above maxx’s point of view. i had no reason to do this. it was a whim.
it was my homage to the canine-point-of-view.
“only when i masturbate,” i answered.
she laughed her conspiratorial laugh, the whispery kind akin to cartoons i’ve known.
a waft of peppermint drifted up my nostrils.
“yes. a hefty shower,” i said. “is dr. bronner a friend of yours?”
the sun was bright this afternoon of national parkery, a day when i went from airfield to beach to ruins to paths, all the while being touched by snowflakes from another storm entirely.
my mint-flavored friend, someone of near-legend returned to focus when i sat on a plank and listened to the breeze…
because time has its own rules in relation to these odd travelings of mine (at times), i felt safe in knowing that if i were to stay in this room with her, time would hold to its rules, meaning there wouldn’t be any.
the blink of an eye is the blink of an eye, as it goes.
it’s pointless to measure time when having these conversations.