tirbuson.mp4
[2024]


contactless
[2024]


an explanation of
why the woman in 
the red top was 
angry at me
[2024]


mother’s mother’s
mother
[2023]



What were we doing
in the age of
technical
reproducibility
[2022]

  





 


Her arms were long; it was impossible to get a close look at her fingers. I ran into her just yesterday. I say hi to her, and she drew me into a long, winding conversation. How was my family, she asked. She told me that, the other day, a car had pulled up near our house, and out stepped a woman white-haired, with a long tail, graceful and elegant. Behind her came a short man in a suit, walking with a limp. Who were they? Why had they come by?
Did they smell our fresh bread? She’d noticed it, too, she said, but hadn’t come over so as not to intrude. She’d waited instead,
expecting us to bring her a share. It was the right decision, she said. This way, she could stay dignified while renewing her faith in people when we brought her pice of bread. Finally, I found a break in her talking and asked, ‘But where are your fingers?’ She flushed, told me there was no need for such rudeness, and left without a goodbye.