15.8.12


I have about fifty finished rolls of film sitting in a drawer. Sometime I'll do something with them, but the longer it goes the harder it gets. Problems with transitions, says my mom.

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I am afraid of death--observing the death of others. Rigor mortis scares me. Bodies become things so easily and quickly, maybe they always were. Is the body I'm sitting in now the body that knew you in the past? Partly, but change is written all over me.

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