THE CAMERA EROTICIZES THE SPACE THAT IT AIMS AT
One frame. Night. Chain-link on the right, pale orange concrete on the left. A path along an empty two-lane bridge. Empty streets at either end. Empty sidewalks. Empty air. City lost and so loses its fervor. They’ve all gone home. Empty everything.
Everything except the field of view. The brown cracked winter grass. The wind. My keys keeping time. The man, standing at the end of the corridor, facing me, barely there.
I stop. He stops. Turns. Waits. Empty everything. At the end of nowhere to go and he’s there and we’ve lost and I told myself I would never again be caught out here alone.
With each footstep down the line, a resolution. If he’s there when I get there, I will murder him.
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