Today, among a group of people, I stared at the walls merge with the darkness till nothing remained but empty, haunting space.
But after a few minutes, the lanterns were released in the sky and they conquered the chimneys and floated in the sky, telling me that light exists around us; it exists in our strength; it exists in the strength of others.
It only needs to be released.
I asked someone, “What are you doing?” and the answer I got was something that hardly anyone ever says to me: “I am reviewing images.”
What does it feel like to review images?
I carefully looked at one photograph for myself and saw it as a structureless compositions, the frame a limitless possibility. Suddenly I felt that when one reads and writes at once, one gets a photograph. Each part of the photo led to another, filling the composition swiftly, like rain on one’s skin.
Does it really feel like this - to see vision on paper and in ones eyes, all at once?
In the past, loneliness for me came with its own charm. Today, something is making me think differently. Does loneliness always come with someone’s absence? Does it always come with self questioning?
One questions why one cannot hold on; one questions what leads one so astray. On the face of it, loneliness is alluring - it is a state where one is truest to oneself. But I wonder about tomorrow when some friends will meet, but I will not. I wonder about tonight where nothing seems whiter, blanker, than the walls that surround me. Nothing seems fuller than my own mind.
Yet, everything is so empty.
Notebooks and notebooks full of loneliness; beds and bedsheets full of loneliness.