It's as if you've entered a dormitory of disbelief
the tunnel of days welling-up
you thumbing through images of yesterday
looking for the waterfall
impregnated with silence. This will be my escape,
you've emailed friends,
certain that this time some sort of resolution
will occur. The last time was a bust,
neither here nor there,
and you without the foggiest notion.
Not to worry, they've told you. This is quite common.
You laughed, but knew the moment
was careening toward you. The make-believe moment,
the pretend moment, the moment that most of us
have to face, even with the deck stacked.
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| Francesca Woodman |