Two truths approach each other.
One comes from inside, the other
from outside, and where they meet
we have a chance to catch sight
- Tomas Tranströmer
These are not the photographs you are looking for.
These are adrift in their own metaphors, inhabiting some misbegotten space.
The eye steals, reaching from another country, ordered by the lack of seasons, by sobriety.
Here, in the crack and chance, in the swung lens, juxtaposition follows, its multiple points of focus imitating poetry.
Or are there poems already roaming these streets?