liminal explorations continued.
On the other side of the screen, you exist. I form the image of you from memories of when we first met, when you came to visit a handful of times and of course the pixellated compilations created through Skype. On better days I see you move with ease, the movements of your mouth and expressions match the words I’m hearing. When the connection stops working, you freeze; your face gets distorted and blurred. I hear your voice but the screen stops transmitting the rest of you. “You’re stuck” I hear you type and I think about how my own face is probably an abstracted mess on your screen.