Fleeting Moments

Perhaps we are not meant to hold on to time.

 

My grandparents are getting older, and I am not sure how much longer they will live. I often look at my wrists, and remember what high school felt like. My cat is blind in one eye, and is hard of hearing, he has had more surgery than any of us in our family. My pet gold fish died once, actually four times, until I couldn’t bear flushing another one down the bowl, I buried the last one in our backyard, I cried. I was once told a boy committed suicide, we used to play in his back yard, he always smiled at me - I wrote a poem about it. I once watched my friend tell me about his dreams, the same friend once told me he felt worthless, we stayed up all night counting the stars on my ceiling, they were made out of plastic, but it cost me 4.99 at packet.

 
 Photography by : Pier Mario

Photography by : Pier Mario

 

My father’s father had worked in the watch industry for many years, clocks are a decorative theme in their house, my grandmother loves Disney, I suppose it reminds her of childhood, it reminds me of consumerism. My father once gave me a watch - it no longer works, I sleep with it every night, it sits on my bed side next to my rock collection, and I never spend too much time wondering what time it actually is - whenever I look at it, I pretend time has stopped. Sometimes, I oversleep.

 

I seem to always cry, especially when flipping through old album books - I do so often on my own time, in the comfort of solitude. They say a picture’s worth a thousand words, but sometimes I don’t know what any of these words mean, so I make it up as I go, I can never settle on a story, but it’s usually bitter sweet - nostalgia always seems to feel this way, the way it settles into my back bone as I lay staring at whatever is above me - these days I count the things I have to do, there are no stars on my ceiling, just cracks and chipping paint where the walls meet. I often wonder what had happened moments before the photo was taken, and then the moments right after - why are we so adamant about smiling in these moments, or do we smile, because even for a second we embrace one another, we share space, and break time - hoping that someday in the future we will look back at an idea of ourselves. Regardless, there is something so raw and vulnerable about a good photograph, it stares back at us, and makes us think twice, about two spaces at once - then and now. 

Time is fleeting, it is for no one to keep, it is impossible to hold on to - so let it go.

 

 


Words by: Kenta Thomas

Photography by : Piermario