Alex Walton, Jarsch - As Our Fluorescent Dawns

One is jolted with the memory of showering only in the dark, the Highway littered with the carcasses of drunk driven land yachts
Trying to make yourself as small as possible in fear of being really Seen not on your own terms

Nights spent dazed, attributing divinity to streetlights, hanging upside down from seatbelts, broken glass making a halo around your head

But these are only pictures now, a million hazy phantom limbs fading white in the sun, paper tigers wet with tears, memories of having memories

To feel light, to hear music, to see saturation and thickness and contrast and trees and rusted metal and the sun setting on oxidized copper and trash and unevenness and the color red; it's not so much the weight of all things, but its presence

All we want is to be bathed in the radiance of a beauty so simple we can't even call its name, one that leaves a little space in the center for us all to sit comfortably

After all, we were just kids then