After Sunrise
A walk to remember and to release
A disposable camera is often set aside and forgotten, even though it remains in plain sight. Stories imprisoned by memory, carrying the storm and its shadows, building quiet barricades, held back by fleeting moments, casting joy and its admiration aside. I feel as if a part of me, silenced for years, is now spilling out at once, releasing everything it has kept inside. Whenever I try to step forward, the stairs ahead loop like a ribbon, stitching a drop of dream into the air’s weightless hum. I slept at nine in the morning just to watch beauty unfold at sunrise. When the bloody orange rose, everything looked the same, yet nothing felt alike.
Author’s note: I keep most of my writing here free, because I believe stories should be easy to stumble into.
The videos I share take time and care to make. They’re slow, considered, and held with intention, just like the writing itself.
If this space has ever made you feel quietly accompanied, and you’re in a position to do so, becoming a paid subscriber is a gentle way to support the work and help it keep growing.
Really beautiful, both the written form and the video/audio.
As HVR said, it must of taken a lot of work and effort, but it has certainly been worth it.
Brilliant, Imi. I always read your work first and listen to what it moves in me in silence. Then I go back and listen to the recording. And all of the words do a sommersalt. This took me back to my first semester in Spain 30 years ago when I saw the sunrise everyday. Almost.