Interconnecting Light

A Parallel Planets piece by Unknown

A series of haikus accompanied by film photographs, Interconnecting Light talks about memories of mornings and goodbyes. Together with a fascination for overexposed and underexposed images, the five haikus in this series aim to be nostalgic and vivid at the same time. It's a way of expressing what's subdued but present, an excuse to talk about what's hidden but apparent.

Written in a sitting and photographed in various occasions, we present Interconnecting Light as a part of Parallel Planet's February Flickers theme. See it below.

* * *

Here is the first light

That will blind you like sunrise

As if it’s your own

Ah, without warning

It touches your face, seeping

Keen on your deep eyes

Bizarre just like you

I begin to memorize

As if it’s my own

Do you remember?

When we woke up yesterday

The curtain’s open

We are familiar

Of the corners we are in

Except it is new

We are familiar

Of dusks and dawns together

Except we’re away

It was imminent

To fall in cushion-like blades

Naked from warning

The day was unlike

Another calendar flip

Maybe it was spring

It was imminent

To fall in spear-like pillows

Naked and wanting

An old carnival

Insecure like a whirlwind

Confused but amused

Late dinners, cheap beer

Rooftops, storms, and neon lights

Like a brilliant blur

But there was no pain

Just another shrill desire

Not wanting to go

The evening’s darkness

And specks of incandescent

It prompts of comfort

Akin to instants

When we would bypass alleys

And find a safe glow

Akin to instants

When we would search for a place

Not wanting to go