i miss alicia

#9

It was once a home and it holds as anything that once contained life would cling to its form.

The ceiling’s caved in, peeling exteriors lean into the center, holding the collective weight until... well, we know that end. The ward is full of these makeshift graves.

Front steps remain as little monuments. Forgotten soldiers. Grandmothers.

A silent place, no bouquet of synthetic flowers to lighten the vastness of this destruction.

You stand still to feel the history of this place, it’s sadness. The ground is grey and boggy, below there’s an aquifer of water and blood. You are touching the origins of your own body.

How could this have happened?

And you realize that though it isn’t right or good, it follows the order that nothing can stand up forever. 

[photos- New Orleans, May 2007]

alicia's paintings [old. haunts.]

pictures [impermanence]

To be deconstructed...

time to finish the job. let us smooth the withered body into its small stone center.

"Of all that is written, I love only what a person has written with his own blood" -Nietzsche

no return

alicia. she was here just a moment ago. the loss persists. it is like time traveling- sometimes its as if the present is the future and the past is the present.. a stream of time. it carries us, but our minds drift regardless of the current.
in the post-apocalyptic film 28 Days Later, a woman talks about her thoughts of never reading a book that wasn't already written, seeing a film that wasn't already made.. it is something like this with alicia. everything between us, between her and the world, is written, shot, done.
i can talk, write, think about her all day forever but its not her. shes not coming back.

a woman. a vapor.

"...open and secret, which we understand only by love and touch only by virtue. And when we attempt to describe such a woman she disappears like a vapor." K.G.

cat faces

they ran out of lemonade.

(alicia and little girl/ street vendor in june 2008)