I would like to recall upon a time when words were new; being discovered everyday as we walked closer to the ground, and saw storms as what-could-be-the-end-of-the-world. I remember running throughout my house when thunder was striking all around, seeing windows light up and waiting for them to burst, covering my face from the shards of glass that will become of those windows. I remember the wooden floors and the parts where carpet started. I remember each and every step of the stairways of my childhood houses, and how there was that final step to the floor below or to that floor above that always wanted me to trip if I wasn't respectful to its edges. I sometimes think my father included those into his design; that he may have been a quiet father but his lessons were of old fashion; teaching us with touch and failure through pain as we would fall, only to get back up and do it all over again until we learned our lesson the only way; the hard way.
I remember when everything was fascinating. I remember when everything felt endless giving us time to stare and watch for what felt like hours as time slowed down, and moment after moment we watched the world take its course. I would like to imagine that child is still with me, and the person who I am today is just the layers upon layers that cover a tree for what it once was; the shape of the tree rounded on the corners and contours like a series of blankets over a once sharp object. I would like to think I am an impression of who I once was. That we once saw the stars as five pointed objects and now we see them as spheres; has time eroded us the same way as rivers for canyons?
(Test #2 from Untitled Project, 2009)