(nuevo) mexico, en accidente
Mimi / a.r. havel
a roll of expired Kodak 200 film travels from a Mexican beach to a despondent Albuquerque interior, then back to Mexico City. it’s not discovered that the roll had been double exposed until it’s developed; and yet, both sets of images are haunted by ghosts: a past romance long gone and resolved; a lonely artist trapped in their apartment while mourning a different break-up. Mimi and Aaron respond to this accident in writing…
At the orientation for my new graduate program, I’m asked to introduce myself and say what new skill I’d like to learn. Around the tables arranged in a horseshoe shape, the others’ answers range in their hope for virtuosity: “I’d like to get better at Mandarin” / “I’d like to understand the biotic-soil here in New Mexico.” When it gets to me, my drooping eye-lids and sun-burnt face say it before I can admit my hopeful surrender: “You know, I’d just like to lay on my couch, and watch the light play along the wall, and be comforted by that again.” I meant for it to sound wistfully romantic, to question the imperative of “doing more” with something sweet and childish. Often I feel misconstrued in these moments; I just seem bratty.
Watch the light along the wall;
see how it will change.
You won’t see majestic mountains gleaming with the bright sun; you won’t go to the market
