Ghost
Ron Mueck’s exhibition was haunting, warm, and lonely. I particularly liked the girl who stood along the wall, her eyes drifting afar. Solitude. She knew how to endure the solitude. I wouldn’t dare say I saw myself in her, or that I'm good with times of nothingness. Instead, I want to say that her posture reminded me, a girl who always picks the back rows wherever she goes — classroom, airplane, train, even at her own reading event. That quiet retreat as a watchful observer lingered with me as I stepped back into the bustling city. It didn’t rain that day. Although I knew it might rain again anytime that week, I roamed around the city, walking until I couldn't walk anymore. It was past dinnertime when I came home. I was tired. I ate, filled my daily word count, then went to bed. In dreams, I again circled the places I once called home. I made a sad smile when I saw people who were no longer in my life. We talked and ordered food. When I woke up, it was another day.
ps: this sculpture is titled “Ghost” — what a chilling name!
