Vortex
My eyelids felt heavy. I straightened my spine, drawing my chest closer to the steering wheel.
I hoped that having a more upright posture would prevent me from giving into the seduction of the lull of the passing center line.
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The journey has been long. Arduous. Each day we drive about eight hours. Sometimes more.
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| Our nightmares and traumas sometimes play out before our eyes, as we’re deceived by faint glimmers of light. I once thought the road was approaching us as a wave—rising in front of us only to cave in to suffocate us. My heart beat against my lungs, searching for an escape.
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It’s all darkness until suddenly it’s light. Hours of the night melt into the past. Our heads meet pillows. Memories scrubbed clean, night swirls in a blur as the sun invades. An island of consciousness. A build. One productive moment. Deconstruction. The offering will linger in the memory of the land and I. It’s not enough.
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| More darkness. My chin begins to fall. Catching myself, I will my eyes open. Maybe I don’t really see. The line between sleep and awake states has become blurred.
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| There was a single red light ahead. My eyes, struggling to keep open, kept crossing, creating two headlights...a car. I kept dozing off and snapping awake—I believed I couldn’t stop falling asleep at the wheel. Finally, something clicked, and I was able to see more of my surroundings. I realized the red light was connected to the hotel room TV and I felt a little crazy.
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A build, a construction, but not a productive one.
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The darkness is a vortex that transports you. The only question is to where.
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| I swerve to avoid a herd of sheep. None of them trace the trail of the car with their eyes. They must have been blind. A collision would have meant an unending conversation. |
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Light can be found in a number of places—the only question is whether it is to be trusted or not.
Illuminate me.
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| Darkness swallows us. Whilst we’re in its stomach it tells us to forge our own paths. To lean into the dark. Stumble, it said. Experiment. Find your feet on untrodden soil. It spit us out and we found an authentic source of light. The undisturbed light of the stars seeped into our skin. |
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We had broken free—somewhat.
We built in the dark.
My eyelids felt heavy. I straightened my spine, drawing my chest closer to the steering wheel.
I hoped that having a more upright posture would prevent me from giving into the seduction of the lull of the passing center line.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
The journey has been long. Arduous. Each day we drive about eight hours. Sometimes more.
|
|
|
|
|
| Our nightmares and traumas sometimes play out before our eyes, as we’re deceived by faint glimmers of light. I once thought the road was approaching us as a wave—rising in front of us only to cave in to suffocate us. My heart beat against my lungs, searching for an escape.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
It’s all darkness until suddenly it’s light. Hours of the night melt into the past. Our heads meet pillows. Memories scrubbed clean, night swirls in a blur as the sun invades. An island of consciousness. A build. One productive moment. Deconstruction. The offering will linger in the memory of the land and I. It’s not enough.
|
|
|
|
|
|
| More darkness. My chin begins to fall. Catching myself, I will my eyes open. Maybe I don’t really see. The line between sleep and awake states has become blurred.
|
|
| There was a single red light ahead. My eyes, struggling to keep open, kept crossing, creating two headlights...a car. I kept dozing off and snapping awake—I believed I couldn’t stop falling asleep at the wheel. Finally, something clicked, and I was able to see more of my surroundings. I realized the red light was connected to the hotel room TV and I felt a little crazy.
|
|
|
|
|
|
A build, a construction, but not a productive one.
|
|
|
|
|
The darkness is a vortex that transports you. The only question is to where.
|
| I swerve to avoid a herd of sheep. None of them trace the trail of the car with their eyes. They must have been blind. A collision would have meant an unending conversation. |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Light can be found in a number of places—the only question is whether it is to be trusted or not.
Illuminate me.
|
|
| Darkness swallows us. Whilst we’re in its stomach it tells us to forge our own paths. To lean into the dark. Stumble, it said. Experiment. Find your feet on untrodden soil. It spit us out and we found an authentic source of light. The undisturbed light of the stars seeped into our skin. |
|
We had broken free—somewhat.
We built in the dark.