I am looking at my child in a photograph. They are running, with arm extended, mirroring the tentacular shape formed in the glitch image above. The snapshot appeared one day last week on the ground by my desk, dropped there by some spring clean. It now hangs off the wall, precariously tucked under the bottom left corner of a framed photo above my laptop. It has fallen sideways so the figure is now upside down. They are running toward me with an extended arm as I sit at the keyboard writing this. They are all a blur. My eyes burn. This blue terrain is a thick underwater, contact sheets on cool paper, their negatives, 2015 scuba blue Audi Q5, creamy blueberry kefir, bursting fig skins. It’s like rays on rust. Arm extended toward me and then away from me as I cast a head’s shadow into the center frame onto the glitch screen, where they reach out to hold me and be held. I imagine this is what it feels like to be nesting inside eye lids.
glitch11, dec 14, 2021
text, apr 18, 2022