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Things change.

The discussion changes;
the object changes,
then the place,
then the photograph.

Everything that came before is
meaningless and important –

There is no “body” of work.
The work is now my body,
my head, my heart: a collage.

The knife-sharpener’s whistle,
the experience of Ramon,
the machete blade grinding on the wheel,
his grin, his artful portable workshop,
his hands, two oranges on the ledge,
 recorded image –

how do you separate one from the other
when you say “photograph”?


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