https://onehundredwaitings.blogspot.com/2021/07/13.html

Monday, 5 July 2021

13

I struggle to make space to write because I want to be like a door, an opening between what is and what could be, even when I know that’s not possible. So many openings shrink away after they’re revealed. The quiet voice not always audible; the quiet rooms not always inviting. I have friends that I love who live far away and we all have our own lives. At dinner, across the table the sliding door sits open, all that plastic mesh. We’ve found a way to continue to find each other, walking out of a home and into a car with a handful of paper towels, ordering too much food. Today, at the river, the brush was burning. I called the fire department, and someone had already called. Already there. Watching a palm tree burn, I was surprised by how many specks of leaves appeared, flying above the flame. Bright red everything, orange and orange. I misheard the song and thought the lyrics said, “Stay fire on fire,” when they really said, “Stay far from fire.” I walked into my own unknowing as a thousand fireworks shot off all over the city. There was a flash of light, and for a moment everything moved.
\nAndy Li in dialog…
\n

It’s nice to meet you Andy and wonderful to see these images for the text I wrote. They are beautiful and also have an unsettling quality. Both doors open into what seems like a more confined space than where the camera is positioned — but there’s still something inviting about them, they are curious openings. The perspective too is intriguing to me, specifically the opening that’s made between the two images as they each fall away from the white middle margin…

Perhaps we could dialogue more about these images and the text? I’m very interested to know what textual moments resonated with the images for you — and also the backstory of these images. — Zach