Intersections II

These are just points. Points that become lines, and lines that become crosses, and crosses that keep intersecting, like those Etch A Sketches we used to play with as kids.

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2iPM009 by Magdalena Fernandez

What this photo deprives you of is the sound in the background-rain. Starting off with a couple of drops, pianissimo, then crescendo to thunder with bright, blinding flashes of lightening, but only for a brief second before going into a steep decrescendo, morendo. The points and lines and crosses become less and less until you’re engulfed in darkness. As soon as the silence settles in, your eyes adjusted to black, your ears pick up the sound of distinct rain drops beginning once again. Dal niente.

And you can sit, in the exhibit, on a bench, just listening and synchronizing. After a couple of cycles, if you’re paying attention, you’ll realize that the sound you’re hearing isn’t rain. It’s a chorus, clapping and snapping and whistling, in imitation of one of the most calming, one of the most frightening moments of nature.

I’ve been reflecting a lot, about the crazy world we’ve learned in history books but never imagined experiencing. About how, this moment, right now, will be in the same history books. Future generations, of a future, hopefully more united world, will analyze this. They’ll ask what happened. Sit in an exhibit, on a bench, question.

Alone, we are just points in space. When we mobilize we start forming these lines. When we organize, when we connect, when we make an effort to intersect, we cross into each other’s paths. When we take all of our collective actions, all our efforts to attempt change, we’ll form a thunderous applause.

That’s history. Injustice crescendos until we can’t take it anymore and we fight back. And right now it’s overwhelming, and there’s tension and discord, and your heart drops at every breaking news report, but we’re experiencing a moment that will define the future. We’re reaching the thunder, with the bright, blinding flashes of lightening, and we’re the chorus in one of the most frightening moments of our history.

Keep clapping, snapping, whistling, doing what you can. Take those points, turn them into lines, and become crosses that keep intersecting.

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