6 x 9 in.
6 x 9 in.
8 x 10 in.
Wood canvas
8 x 10 in.
6 x 9 in.
6 x 9 in.
6 x 9 in.
…and my thoughts (when they are in the form of words) drip; drip as if someone has not turned the knob of their sink the whole way, an unclosed valve, water squeezing itself at all sides through the head of the fountain, and managing to come out as droplets. And I think about what I am going to say, and sometimes I think too much about them, and when I do, it is usually better (and I usually do), say nothing at all. My voice is not kind to me, my physical voice attached to my head-voice like an umbilical cord; they do not match each other. And it is my physical voice, that sound, that people hear. And it is my physical voice that determines everything, in those moments of conversation. And sometimes, there are people you meet that do not only hear the sounds that emit from you – that part becomes diffused – and they instead, sometimes so naturally too without strain or effort, speak more to your head than reflecting noise back to your mouth.
