At my worst, I control the boundaries of my form,
and yet, when divine, the self permeates the
physical world. It’s true: the atoms of our bodies
grieve each other in death just like a color doesn’t
occur alone— but takes meaning from other colors.
The moon was a changeable star that ruled men’s
fate. Water was green and not blue to medieval
cartographers. The complexity of ocher begs
the viewer to grapple with it. We are swiftly
becoming an indoor species. Yet, scientists know
more about outer space than the Earth’s oceans.
Humans brought the natural world into their homes
to combat the rise of machines. Without us
knowing, trees converse via latticed fungi. Gender
isn’t something one is, but does. We are a vast
assembly of nerve cells— the continents longing
for each other.
