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Over the last six months together I have realised you are as diffused as I – in a constant state of distant proximity. I’m referring to distance as sequential moments of interruption, an external and internal force. Formally, our time together has manifested in a physical hunt for memories set in the future, and instances of alienation and intimacy applied as senses; all articulations of an environment conducive to The Subject Interrupted. A connoisseur of film and video, I thought I could get to know you through many hours of viewing, however, after only a few days it became obvious that your person was missing from this format. I needed to dig deeper into your recesses, where I discovered a profound paper trail. Despite this, lately it seems impossible to solidly define ourselves (you & I) over the entirety of our formerly separate existences. This may seem like a confronting statement, though I don’t intend it to be. After having read your various correspondences, notes, postcards, invoices and records, I am allowing myself this confession hoping a deeper camaraderie emerges from it (between you & I and you & you).
I know you recently had a birthday, which can be a time of celebration, but also of self-reflection. Not always easy, birthdays have a way of granting concession to unplanned reveals. You also moved into a space extending from a former butterfly atrium – the site of uniquely, glimmering spectacle, quietly awaiting an audience before whom they play; how befitting your own collection of fragile and ephemeral bijou.