In companion with the exhibition: Takashi Horisaki and Klea McKenna

by Anonymous

They were already adults when they spotted them – a pair of matching freckles on their upper thighs. They traced their trajectories with outstretched index fingers. Both had begun just above the kneecap and traveled north. But how had they gone unnoticed for so long? After lunch, two Swiss sandwiches on rye from the little café on Franklin, the place where, after her first promotion they had sat, marveling at the check, at the breadth of the world, beginning right there in front of them, the intersection with its yellow light blinking, asking everything in its presence to slow down, not to stop, just to wait for a moment before proceeding. What is it with velocity? The younger wondered out loud that shady afternoon, under the swaying palm fronds. It’s not something you can hold, just feel. This deadened the conversation, the salient motives of the two sisters thickening. And this very afternoon on their parents’ green couch freshly showered and marveling at their legs…it was a simple question, not leaning toward the metaphysical in any way – Why do you think the pigment stays in one place for so long? The older hardened like day old bread begging to be toasted. Soon though they made another discovery – not a freckle but a blotch – right there on the inside of the left wrist. It looked like a lake or some other body of water. Somewhere they’d visited together as children. Somewhere wide and serene. The older smiled. How is it that water can be both inside us and outside us at the same time?

writing index

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