“Continuity” Alejandra Pizarnik, 1963
Not naming things by their names. Things have barbed edges, lush vegetation. But who is speaking in this room full of eyes? Who gnaws with a mouth made of paper? Names that come up, shadows with masks. Cure me of this void, I said. (The light loved itself in this darkness of mine. I knew that there was absence when I found myself saying, It is I.) Cure me, I said.
“Emptiness” Aidyn Mills, 2020
I too was once pricked by the rigidity of things, with their barbed edges and insistent spokes. Then I noticed the light catching on the contours of these metal rims, revealing speckles of my reflection. I began to turn these and the other things at just the right angles, and soon they all became the same things. And then I knew there was emptiness when I saw myself.
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