Mingcheng Song

A Closed Loop

Untitled Space

I stand still while the world spins into a vomit of colors and light. I tried dipping into the tornado and retrieved only some feverish shapes. Outsped, my eyes landed on the remaining things that have yet to catch on, a ribbon, a fence, a window, and an insect. Too shallow for beauty or grandeur, but keep me company in their motionless solidarity. By the light that filters in from outside, together they form image after image. The images are jammed and pressed and wound up into a reel. Never meant to become coherent, they slowly separate as the momentum fleets. They grow more and more apart, but contain a piece of each other still, completing a closed loop. Echoing the motions, they are the stuff of persisting vertigo.

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