like illuminated ants in file this nightly dance a ritual bath in the sense of sameness the commute – blurring lane lines bow bright red flashing ants marching single files for miles seasons pass frames change drapes seasons pass the way remains the same morphing into a sense of lost time and time spent where did I even begin?
up that same stretch the same pavement different constructions signs perhaps the same general perception some time has passed enough to grow a beard, maybe slightly longer than that there is a different feel yet the birds still sway back and forth over the meadowlands over the roadway like giant hollow swings billboards, toll booths wet with new year rain the same the same as last year’s rain as far as I can tell – I await for a thread of sunshine
notes: this is a feel thing, this was my first day back at the office in a month, since I had covid and since my father passed, you almost expect the world to be different, you feel different, you look at things differently, but everything else, feels the same or acts that way, so I wanted this work to be… mundane…