“Before I built a wall I’d ask to know
What I was walling in or walling out.
And to whom I was like to give offence.
Something there is that doesn’t love a wall”
Where you ever empty? Who filled you with me? Somebody claimed your space and filled you with their own content, that’s how I got here. These borders that surround me are your definition and my division from the outside. Why do I let you? You insulate me and protect me against unwanted influences. I worry about, and long for the isolation you promise to give me. But can you really? Nothing ever happens in a vacuum. What is it then we’re shutting in and shutting out – to make something or someone into an island?
I am documented and filed, so I really do exist. But where you ever empty before me?
Always wondering, The Contained
Iron fabric and branch.
Red velvet and branch.