not a pretty picture. not a good. not a bad. picture. but an argument.

Tuesday, January 15, 2013

the one photograph of you

imagine a series of photographs. it doesn't matter of who. it doesn't matter what they are doing. it doesn't matter when. but imagine a series of photographs of people.  many many people.

there is something there i almost see. do i want to? it is right there. the fat man with the pasty skin, he looks almost a boar. that is something. the woman who is thin and worn. my god, you can imagine her smell and you do not want to. her life has been hell, will be hell, and then her corpse - there will be little between she and her bones. the most successful person so polished with their purse, their wallet, their career, their car, their family. it is right there. i can almost see it  beyond the incomprehensible numbers of people. my god, because of the unceasing flow of time, the birth and death of souls, the number of people is in fact uncountable. the magnitude! the infinitesimal shine of each spirit, yet the eternal flow.

imagine a series of photographs. always. always a desk and always a series of photographs.  many many people. because of the magnitude nothing matters. nothing. and yet somewhere in the mire is a photograph of you.
(while this might appear to be more than one photograph, it is not.  it is only a part of the series.  it is the one photograph of you.)



  1. And that's what we focus on from the time we open our eyes!
    How we tremble in anticipation, how we live for another encounter, and another, infinity in our circle.

  2. to be both lost and found in the same magnitude.

  3. and yet another perspective on magnitude:


"Words at the limit of hearing, attributable to no one, received in the conch of the ear like dew by a leaf." (philippe jaccottet) or even a quiet presence is appreciated))