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Archive for the ‘unheimlich’ Category

As promised.

I have attached pictures of the house: receiving room, bedroom, kitchen. I spend most of my time outdoors since I cannot bear the emptiness inside these walls.  

As promised, if you visit you will always have a place to rest your head.  Although there is difficulty in such a proposition:  the flight in, the check points, the intermittent house raids. You are much too sensitive for this military state.

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I announce that I am there.  I make a few adjustments; sweep the unsightly into the shadows, move unlikely objects from view.  I even alter the mother of all symbols to coincide with the one I saw as a child.  I claim no feeling for it, only for the droop of its swag. 

I brush the plaque from my teeth and comb the lint from my hair.  I hold a glass of water in my hand as I head in.

The animal makes its presence known, bellows as I walk by.

And the uncertain maw — it seems to contract.  I crawl into its womb with hopes for a peaceful sleep and an eventual return to consciousness. 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

 

 

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Click on the pictures below to find what doesn’t belong.

 
herhousework.jpg    herbovines.jpg    herdog.jpg

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audience-and-curtain-sm.jpg

I peak through an opening between curtains. I see an audience, but I don’t see a performance.

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audience-and-curtain-sm.jpg

I am seated on the floor among audience members. Together we rehearse lines before the curtain.

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audience-and-curtain-sm.jpg

The stage is nowhere to be seen. Behind the audience is a threshhold, with a curtain acting as door.

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audience-and-curtain-sm.jpg

Unexpectedly, I will be performing before an audience. However, the curtains have been badly placed.

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Photoshop is the perfect tool for making things appear not to be there. But there is always the artifacting, the evidence of something once being there. It is nearly impossible to seamlessly manipulate the pixels to reflect proper lighting or sharpness, or to gauge what stood behind elements now edited out of the picture.

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building-empty.jpg
 
 
 
 
 

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I live between two shoulders.

 

Nestled between two shoulders, I fall asleep on a woolen mat too narrow for my girth and too short for my length. The mat is old and moth-eaten, in danger of completely revealing the stained cushion it houses.


 
 
 
I wake up some time later, my fist clenching a key that doesn’t fit the front or back doors, nor the gate outside. And the window sills are rife with moth carcasses.


 

 

 

 

 
 

 

 

 

 

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