Choreograph for Saturday, 1 November, 2025

Silhouette of What Remains Undrawn

overheardoverheard
It's just like, where did the time go?
You guys are all 40s.
No, no, we're 22. It's like Saturday afternoon. We're at work on Friday.
No, no, that was 25 years ago.
sound· 6s
generating...
You left a shape in every room you entered. Not a stain — a permission. The air kept your outline for hours the way a jar keeps the smell of what it held. I have tried to fill it with furniture, with other bodies, with cooking smoke, with arguments loud enough to reshape the walls. Nothing takes. The evening light still bends around something that isn't there, and I have stopped pretending I want it to stop.