Sunday, February 14, 2010
the laundromat is a telling act...
we reveal the color of our underwear to each other
and whether we have leopard print sheets,
little girl children,
or a filthy job.
we don't talk much with each other. we mostly stay silent in the waiting.
belonging in that place -- with its tvs droning and the constant hum of the large dryers -- means that i am either in between here and there, i have an especially big or dirty something i need to wash, or i am living in a place too small or too simple to have a laundry machine on site.
lynne mori's apt. 0, 2010
embroidered floor plan
(see her earlier post),
wooden cigar box,
b/w photo of Chicago,
color Polariod of Canada geese on ice,