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lost and found at tiny thing
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i wrote this for something else - ages ago
I have no home in the world. Or rather I have not ONE home in the world. My network is thinly spread, flimsy even. This was not my intention but this is how it is.
I am interested in memories and surfaces. Susan Stewart says that "memory is a measuring device, a ruler of narratives". Amy Bloom says that "everyone has two memories. The one you can tell and the one that is stuck to the underside of that, the dark, tarry smear of what happened." I say, I am an archivist of the coffee stains, the smell of smoke, the ringing in your ear but also the sms message that made us into who we were and the chat transcript that destroyed everything.
I am collecting the scraps of the where and the how. This is what my garden is build out of. This is how it grew and grows.
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