Currents

Currents of electricity run beneath my skin. Seated for too long, the energy has nowhere to go, building towards an inevitable catharsis. In the corner of my eye, the shadow of a tree branch dances, the leaves painting with light against the barren stucco wall. I imagine myself joining the tree, and on the wall beside it appears my own shadow dancing with the rhythm of the wind.

No. 063

Orange flesh

Spiral recurrences: a life repeating, no—growing, changing, stepping up or down. Every moment is an opportunity for new beginnings. Mandarin orange peeled when the thumb presses into the bottom and breaks flesh. Eight even pieces, torn apart. Canine teeth pierce the membrane and juice comes spilling out. Always you can find a way to say, Now.

No. 019