There’s one shot in the Parisian metro where she’s trying not to smile. It’s silent beauty composed through bearing and spoken by the eye, known but not tamed, lucid but aloof, like a corset on a cloud. Only, that doesn’t sell the elegance of the moment. She looks at me through time and space and all of the humanities. She sees a world where I am nothing and I am everything. I am always present in each of my absences, an unseen object become subject. There’s one inescapable moment where I look and long. In it, I am there.
Nic Addenbrooke is a freelance writer, editor, content creator, radio broadcaster, part-time poet and sometimes artist. Nic has been coming to terms with existence for years. He currently lives and works in Brisbane where he struggles to turn the cacophony of voices in his head into things of substance. It doesn’t always work but occasionally produces a nice veneer of sanity.