parallax

parallax

2016
HD Video
single channel loop 
12:31 min

Last night my ____ accidentally shot ____ in the face with a .22 caliber rifle.

The bullet remains forever lodged in ____ skull.

We are not burying ____, but we carry ____ in our mind’s eye.

A formless structure, netted between our neurons.

Afterall, isn’t the scarification of the mind equivalent to the construction of a haunted house.

Our age is correlated to the ghost’s we haul around within us.

I can remember ____ when I was a child, putting on ____ prosthetic leg.

The awe of a new leg.

A body extension.

A plastic appendage grafted with gravity.

I gazed from my _____ kitchen at ___ hopping around my ____ backyard on one leg.

___ trembled two beats before stopping and ____ leaned over.

____peeled up a pant leg, revealing a luminous ball of smooth flesh, rounded off by the blade of a skilled surgeon.

The skin of that appendage glows, expands to fill a room.

The room becomes a house.

A house becomes a city.

____ is here, the corpuscles of ___ leg bleeding from one mnemonic recall to the next.

The appendage becomes an artifact.

The artifact becomes an appendage.

At ___ house.

In ____ yard, where ____ is carrying ____ lighting kits.

____ played in a band a long time ago.

_____ says ____ was talented.

I don’t know.

I was too young and now I’m too old to believe in the validity of my memories.

The gaps in time from then and now experience a broad expansion in their breadth.

Was it yesterday or was it yesteryear?

I can’t differentiate the real from the electric.

I can’t remember.