We remain forgotten if we choose to be.
A choice that is made on the cusp of who we are, what we do, and how comfortable we are in our own skin. When was the last time you felt the sun on your forehead? The last time you felt serenity in the reflection, the still mirrors that surround us. When was the last time you felt wanted? When was the last time you chose to be seen?
You see an abandoned building, an abandoned soul is only abandoned when it has been chosen to be. Empty eyes are mistaken for being unoccupied.
That is the beauty of being invisible.
The veins of the city are full of us. The sheep. The people. The babies, burnt souls, knocked up round and lonely. Invisible.
They continue, we continue, to move in hopes of being invisible. Often we hope that we do not lock eyes with passers by. I don’t necessarily want to know how you are because I don’t want you to know how I am. I’m not that interesting. My day is not that interesting. My wish is to be invisible like the buildings. Let me disappear like the stories written in notebooks of the writers who fold them in half and put them in their back pockets. Maybe, just maybe, they read these stories to ears not deafened to train tracks, honking horns of cab drivers and ambulance sirens.
We can be that if we choose.
Where do you lie in the river? When it is quiet? When it is raging?
Where do you hide yourself when the abandoned buildings are silent with voices of stories longing to be heard. There is a voice. You can help write the story.
If you choose.
*This prose was written as a collaboration between Alessio and myself over time. We both always wondered what it was like when the art and images we love so much are shared to the world. Does the image truly elicit what we would like to have? Does the story, the 1000 words, actually get translated during this time of “followers” “likes” and “seeking fame”? It is important to showcase the image and not the image of ourselves. We’ve both always felt that way. He always felt that way. He always asked me if it was important for me to hit x amount of likes and followers. He always asked me how important each shot was for what I wanted to portray. He always asked me to see if I ever straddled the line of seeking fame or loving my art.
I let myself marinate in those questions. Where do you live in all of this? Do you straddle? What is your choice?