A Sketch (from the Oblivion series)
-June 15, 2013
Revised Version: March 16, 2015
You drew for me a sketch of a moth on a scrap piece of board. Delicate, the details
were. You copied the contours, antennas, and hairs from a corpse. It spent its final
moments fluttering around the finishing room light, exhausted itself being
infatuated by the lustrous shine.
That night cast thin shadows of insect wings. Smearing from the side of a
graphite point and blurring light shadings upon a white surface. But now these
wings stay fixed to the portrayed deceased body. In my mind, our dreams stood
like mirrors facing one another. Had we incidentally understood each other more
than just a brightly lit allure? Nevertheless—it was nothing but a glowing attempt to
discover something more.
As far as I remember, I still have your sketch, a metaphoric memoir of a fallen life,
which once pollinated from a pupal night. But as the graphite presses against the
board, it brings to life an image of a lamented misspent ardor. A fluttering lost
within mirrors of subconscious memories.