“He liked the fragility of those moments suspended in time. Those memories whose only function had been to leave behind nothing but memories. He wrote: I’ve been round the world several times and now only banality still interests me.” – Sans Soleil
I wish: it was a movie. I wish a spontaneous documentary about Indonesian volcanoes would play in the background of our death scene. I wish the film was a negative so we would not have to see the real thing. I wish the audio was exchanged by car and airplane noises and an old woman narrating where they went wrong in life. I wish for banality to sweep over any claims of importance. But as I see banalities in the middle of the night, they seem uncanny. I might have been trained to see it that way. I wish I had not been trained that way. I wish to descend into the pure image and rise above. And if sad scenes must happen to me, I want them to go about smoothly and without a trace. Those stone walls by the sea had purple flowers growing on them and the winter wind freezes my cheekbones. I wish time was nauseating and I was unable to see beginning or end. I wish Uranus would redirect time to throw it back at Earth and other banal planets. I begin to walk down our alley to arrive at the same time and to forget where I started. I paint fake portraits of myself to forget they were fake. I wish to remember and then forget everything that is and I wish for my head to be filled with car and airplane noises and a scene of a volcano breaking out.