Material for Spring
TWO-MAN show featuring
Faye Pamintuan & Tammy De Roca
SHARE ON SOCIAL MEDIA:
Dear Friend,
I hope life is treating you sweetly.
Thank you for the postcards of your new playground. I’m sure you’d have no difficulties growing into it, because if I ever know just one thing about you, it’s that you have the ability to make a home out of anything – even foxholes.
As for me, I find myself unhurried. Even on days when I feel like the world wants nothing more than to escape me, I am unhurried.
Everyone likes to pretend that you oughta be elsewhere all the time, see? To go where the grass is presumably greener. I can understand the pragmatism of that, but I find it hard to subscribe to the belief that an Eternal Eden exists perpetually out of sight. I am a devout empiricist in that way – or perhaps I simply struggle with object permanence.
Whatever the case, I trust in the consistency of you writing me back.
All my heart,
X
Dear X,
My side of the world is as green as ever – I water it every day! The springs paint my nose a very bright red, the kind that the santan flowers in my old backyard would have envied.
I kinda get what you mean about the world escaping you. Truly, I do. At the heart of your sentiments lies a predilection for certainty, a stasis that isn’t suffocating, which I believe is a desire that comes naturally to those of us that often feel like only children of the universe. There is simply so much more comfort in the already-known.
In this sense, I can imagine why change – no matter how small or big – might feel apocalyptic. I think about caterpillars and how they shed the very matter that they consist of, how they rearrange their parts to become a shape that resembles their truth. I think about the sun and how it drenches my side of town a golden orange. I think about the moon and how it cloaks yours a silver blue.
Isn’t it lovely how we are alive to feel the full breadth of rapture?
Your friend always,
Y
