June 26, 2007

In No Voice

Not to speak for one’s subject, but to let each thing speak for itself. The dirty white bubbles when you wash your hands after a day outside. The grateful sting of eyedrops after a long night’s reading. A dust-rimmed empty can of tea: pencils, a two-euro coin, ancient dried-up tea leaves.

Thinking of buying a photograph. A photograph of a hand adjusting the frame of a photograph. The stillness of angles, the quiet of black and white.