Someone lies on the floor just inside the last doorway. S/he is a friend, a parent, a child, an enemy, an unknown. S/he is old, young, of any race or gender. You know her/him. S/he is a stranger. Take us into this story.
And, consider that we don’t always know what is real. What is imagined. What is another’s story. What is ours. I found this paper scrap in my 2008 journal:
Geology – Native American
Young Clown Man: Ah ii, geology, geology, ah ii…You probably think I am talking about this geology which is a white man’s study about something or other. Well, that’s not it,,,what it really is is that I have a grandmother, and you know she being poor and ugly, nobody would have anything to do with her. She is running around all summer long out in the (illegible word) doing a man’s job. It breaks her down. She would go out there every day with no shoes and so her feet were not very dainty and not very feminine. If you pick up her foot and look at her sole, it is all cracked and that’s what I am talking about when I say geology.
Please walk down that hallway. Write us what you find. My deep thanks to photographer and writer B. Lewicki for the doorways.
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