a woman and a tree meet on the street

Here’s a story about silence. See, there is a woman, and she’s leaning against a tree, and this tree is in the middle of the street, where cars are passing and where roadkill is born. She isn’t moving, and neither is the tree, for trees do not have feet.

But cars continue to pass by them, honking horns and aggressively speeding. They hit neither. The girl and the tree are communicating. The tree through the rustle of its leaves, and the girl through the stillness of her lips.


The Diorama of an Old Woman (1)

View is the panning of pane of glass, plain and dull, with scratches and slashes. View is already going back, blur is gone, focus now on. View was dull and dead as skulls — as skulls to ash — yet more life in them. View: with elements, with content, with scene; eyes unfold, faces seen. And view is now a gradual clash of red and yellow and blue and black. View begins to make sense.