photoGENETIC
picture is worth a thousand stories
The Past redoubles on itself.
Had everything already happened?
Once when I was
small
I rummaged through drawers
of a desk while standing on a
chair. I found a faded photograph
of a little girl with a large bow
in her hair,
I thought it was me, bit it turned
out to be my mother.
I am startled by
my reflection
in a store window, so crumpled and worn. I look away, the spector followsm slinking away on the glistening walls, insistant. On the ground, she stalk me as my shadow. We used to be like twins. But I turned my back on her and set out to mirror the world
Sandcastles echo distant peaks.
Lips float on the Danube... man ray
I study myself, and I see my mother