how we lost gravity
space moved
closer
too close
gravity
tore
through
down
no longer
down
red
first
not colour
pressure
under the skin
blue
after
holding
what wouldn’t stop
amber
flicker
in the mouth
of it
darkness
didn’t fall
it fed
took
the breath
wet
again
deeper
past
where sound
should be
no bottom
just
more
of it
thick
red
blue
amber
bleeding
into
something
that wouldn’t stay
still
until
darkness
split
not open
just
unable
to keep
everything
inside
edges
back
wrong
again
not seeing
and yet
up
red
cold
blue
burning
amber
won’t stay
red
inside
blue
too near
amber
in the throat
not
moving
breath
tries
fails
tries
water
everywhere
no
water
still
everywhere
red
again
again
blue
holding
holding
amber
dim
dimmer
less
less
le
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Nothing truly leaves — it just changes how it stays.
All artwork courtesy of NDjin Gallery
This felt like being pulled into an inner weather where colour becomes pulse, panic, memory. I kept feeling the body trying to name something overwhelming through fragments, as if language itself were short of breath. That ending fading into “le” stays... a light going out mid-syllable.
Colorful yet haunting. Love that contrast.