1. Mirrors in the Sky
Sometimes, when I am walking, I think I am behind a screen and nothing is really as close as it seems — as if I am brushing shoulders with people in another dimension, my shadowy outline only the idea of a person to them, always dimmer, less alive, less vibrant than the Real World. Where did I go? I wonder.
Sometimes, walking is not enough. Sometimes, I run so I can feel as though I am running away. The world blurs around me, and the wind rushes to fill the space I leave in my wake with each step. These are moments of clarity when I look up and fix eyes on the horizon, feeling like I’m charging into it. In these moments, I sense the palpable but tenuous connections from one space to another, like hooks hanging from an empty sky, linking air to earth. More and more, I feel the sky is a canopy nailed to the ground. If I kick the stakes too hard, it might blow away. Then where would we be?
Where would we be if the world detached from itself?
In our language, night falls and day breaks. Like a curtain that drops from above and then shatters by morning light. I picture a fabric made of mirrors, their tiny surfaces reflecting the world in the dark until the sun rises and the glass drops. Everything is destroyed in the chaos of broken glass.