clack clack...

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it was the first time that I saw the sands again. this time on the wall. this time they were contained in a window that would stop being there with every short push of the green button. (Though I the image is now forever burned into me, there on the wall... this perfect place...) the sands looked nothing like the heat and the wind and the danger felt when seen in person. the light from a glowing piece of metal now filtered through tiny colorful particles that were actually there when the picture was taken, i guess? do slides work this way? clack clack... "the wind was as if you were holding a giant hair dryer to your face." I forgot to mention that I could not really see the sand as clearly when i was there. the hot wind just made my eyes teary... the heat made my body panic. clack clack... "these are taken with this old camera, no light meter, the focus is very much off..." clack clack... "this is the day on which Ronald Reagan died. can you see the light through the stripes of the shadow of the flag?..." clack clack... I would spend long evenings projecting fairy tales onto the walls of my mother's office, onto the ceiling of my crowded room, even onto the stickers i managed to attach to the thickly painted doors of a cabinet in the bathroom. clack clack... Projections onto surfaces allowed me to focus I guess. My father's photo studio with its powerful light was the place where I discovered that to every image I saw, there was a parallel reality, a reversed, monstrous reality with glowing black dots in eyes, completely black teeth, other foreign shapes engaged in odd activities. clack clack... I would trace the outlines and be left with some really bizarre results. clack clack... The smell of dust being baked onto a painfully bright light-bulb. Afterimages for minutes, green stripes the shape of projector air vents, preventing me from seeing my room. again and again and again. clack clack... traces of pictures on the inside of the bathroom door. clack clack... shadow puppets. clack clack... the dog. the man. the man-dog. the dog-man. clack clack... more boyish experiments. clack clack... two candles.

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pretty pictures.

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This page contains a single entry by Witold published on October 2, 2004 2:36 PM.

a somewhat sad attempt to describe the variability of time by the adjustment of certain speeds. was the previous entry in this blog.

no foreign substances added to an ecstatic rush through images, memories and never before seen impressions of things, people and ideas... is the next entry in this blog.

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