Rheim Alkadhi

During a split-second of solitude, I record the view; through the window of friends’ hillside house. Inside is a modernist spread, to be sure, navigated through apparent sortings and re-sortings of places and belongings (upon reflection, looks as if a move were imminent).  

There is the distant palm tree: plucked from the time we had a sudden shower of dates. 

And there is the inner landscape of my arabness.