After Robert changed, I learned to see everything two ways: first I saw the world in my seeing way, and then I saw it through Robert’s unseeing. Black prisms, headaches, noise rushing, control surrendered.
Kansas makes a grainy square around us. In the passenger seat, Robert faces the winter fields mounding along the highway like a sad brown sea. I sense him feeling his way toward the sun. Sometimes he’s this to me, a plant on a sill; other times he’s my husband again.
A contribution to American A, B, C, D, a four-book anthology of works from international artists and writers. In American C, photographers and writers respond to a collection of found American photographs dating from the first half of the 20th Century. Edited and compiled by Paripé Books, an independent publisher based in Spain and Argentina. November 2017.