Ichigo Ichie And Killing
Something special happens when you pay attention
Blood spray pattern blesses the floral wallpaper with a bespoke Jackson Pollock as it dries.
Chunks of wood are splintered off of the wardrobe and scattered across the carpet.
The acrid smell of gunpowder smoke slowly diffuses into the afternoon air.
Final resting posture of the body dictated by too many variables to count. Among them are: Environmental geometry, placement of wounds, type of wounds, and the victim’s own distinct psychophysiological configurations and entrenched movement habits.
The time of day dictates the position of the sun and thus the direction from which light enters the room. Intensity of light is dictated by time of year, cloud coverage and the fact that the curtains are half drawn. The curtains are blue and the light filtering through them colours half the body in a teal hue. The statuesque face, drained of blood and robbed of it’s natural colour, gives off the impression of death by asphyxiation under the blue-tinted light.
The washing machine and boiler can be heard operating in an adjacent room. The vibrations propagate through the walls and the various structures embedded within them.
From the closed windows, distant echoes filter through of birdsong, wind, and the ghostly sound of air being displaced by traffic.
Four shell casings litter the bedroom floor. Two lay on a carpet touching each other, topping and tailing like double A batteries resting in a remote control. One rolled under a desk and came to rest against a wall on the wooden floor.
The final stands on it’s end.
