A place where they buried horses. Rendered their bodies for dog food, leather, gelatin from the hooves. Madeline finds their bones. What washes up are shoes and condoms and ceramic dishes from the eighties, sixties, forties, nineteens, bottles, glass, blue, green, amber, pale orange, rusted with the salt water, melted rubber ball and tires, baby doll heads, ceramic medicine bottles, the landfill of life constantly washing and scoring memory among the pilings reeking of gas, oil, pcbs and tar....grasses and bittersweet grow among the trees along the shore hiding the archeology of NYCs castaways. A cat licks its paws in the late afternoon sun.
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Mia de Bethune
Thoughts on the creative process. Archives
April 2023
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