Zarah Butcher-McGunnigle

A baby is left out in the open, for instance on a suburban park bench. Which is the same as the man writing an essay next to a closet of empty clothes or a closet empty of clothes. Nothing rises or conflicts, there’s simply a set of questions set to music. They will always show what they are required. Though with a different setting it would be unrecognisable.   A beautiful, hurt mouth.   Close to midnight.  At the same time, one cannot feel another person’s pain, but only infer it from their behaviour and their reports of it. The background was in the backyard but I’ve always struggled with beginnings. The man I was talking to was small and faraway. Coincidence is stitched into goals. A few frames later, wheels fall off to create drama. A rendering of things which open with discrepancy and close with similarity. What’s wrong with this picture.