Dei, someone jumps off a bridge, into the river.
Dei,
I hope you can swim. The way you took off your shoes and socks but kept everything else on makes me wonder if you are swimmer. Did you jump in to search the waters for something meaningful or were you searching for meaning in the wrong place? Is there more to you under the surface of this wetness? Were you aiming for the sand, shells or to collide with the fish. Did you drop something? Were you diving in to pick it up? Did someone instruct you to jump in or did you decide to submerge out of your own volition? It is the way you jumped that frightens me most. You were not bracing for the fall. There seemed to be no plan between you and the current. If you do not rise to surface, would you consider this leap a success or failure? I did not stop you or try to call after you. I just watched you go inside, beyond the levels of my reach. One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Maybe you can hold your breath underwater for a very long time. Six. Seven. Eight. Nine. Maybe you swam away from my sight. Ten. Ten. Ten. If I walk away now, will you make it back to the surface or were you never planning to arrive at the border between breathing and reason. I hope you know how to swim. Because I don’t.
May the colours you select blend correctly,
Melizarani
On repeat this week
The Poverty Line is fascinating a study and depiction of poverty and inequality by Malaysian & Singaporean artists Chow and Lin.
‘The season kept paring down to two people talking to each other, trying to resolve their relationship, at least for the time being. If capitalism tries to convince us that what is most important is what any one of us can acquire or accomplish, then whatever takes capitalism’s place will have to be built around collective action. Yet collective action is no good if it’s not also built around person-to-person contact. The world seeks to build walls between us, and the only way we can climb them is by tossing each other rope.’
I’m late to the Mr Robot party…so I’m throwing my own. What a riveting, synergetic and extraordinary piece of television. Each season demanded my admiration and attention. In Season 4, I was particularly compelled by the way director/writer Sam Esmail captured emotions by placing emphasis on two-person scenes, as this Vox article validates.
My father said
“If he is not vaccinated by now, he would be in the grave.”