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From an ample stretch of a passing gaze, featureless, and immobile, it’s unusually difficult to make out the cloud of emotion that surrounds the image of "T". But, look closely; come into his aura of mystical appeal. Even closer…I dare you, inspect his overjoyed yet striking intrigue, oh that pride. Can you feel it?
It's as if he's wearing his heart, smack dab on his shoulders. He is aware of little more than this one, relatively insignificant moment, which will only be buried into the expansive history of his memories. The passing of time it appears is etched in circular wrinkles across his withered brow. He is, from ear to rosy ear deeply content. Eyes squinting like dotty crescents of slivered onyx as if to say, this is I, in my own process of continual becoming. I have already experienced a world beyond the average man's span of time. "T" is simple. He is strikingly profound.
Perhaps an instant of sentiment, nevertheless, content with whatever is out there looming in the not so distant tomorrow. Like a blushing spring cherry ripely plucked, you can watch that warm rushing pattern of friendliness wash over his face, his neck, even his inanimate t-shirt. It soaks up the blackness of despair from his past and finds itself at home, implanted in the very fiber of his being. [Kristen Delaney] |
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