60311 the animal inside.

I am trying to gather what cannot be contained in a waveform. The memory of a thing is not solid. It lives under a tiny glass dome. Upon close examination, it begins to fade. It fades most quickly in the center of focus, a kind of inverse fovea, and it oozes out between our clutching fingers.

60303 wind in the leaves.

On a warm spring day overlooking the Qudyalçay, a river which severs the community of Mountain Jews of Quba from its Azeri neighbors, we gaze out across the valley, teaming with buzzing insects and birds, from under the shade of a billowing apple tree at the edge of the local Jewish cemetery.