Maybe it is because I’m from the Midwest where language is parsed and scrutinized for all possible meanings, for passive aggressive intent or the potential for social status maneuvering
Maybe it is just a kind of retinal autism where I see every object as an equally valid
as an interesting signifier
but I am obsessed with the small visual phrases
and signs of display
that permeate our across life and class.
The patterns on cleaning materials,
the exotic house plants we keep,
the shapes we make when we connect to ourselves and each other.
Taken together, it feels like there must be some key, some cipher there that can unlock and stand-in for our equalness if only I can look carefully enough.