Subfractionalism

A photograph is a fraction of a vision. At times, a fraction of a fraction. A photograph is an angle without a plane. A slice of sight. A subtraction from wide-eyedness. A memory recalled but depthless. The edited viewscape. What is left when the ignored is left out.


A word is sometimes a part of a word, a fraction of a thought's thought. It changes in the editing of it. We see by slicing away, hear by listening to the narrow corner, read by not seeing it all.

A sight begins before we see it. We come from outside of sight into it. We move through it as part of it. Within it is the site itself, where we are, where it is, where seeing stays.


The fractograph may not have depths of focus, and we see it not as we see the sure sight. We see its sharpness and its blur. A photograph doesn't move, but its focus does. 

The angle presents the thought, for seeing is a purified thought, thought without ideas, the sculptured light that is all we really see.

We walk somewords without ideas of whereto or wherefore. We see a sound in the word, even if cut, even if misspelled. We escape from word by seeing only part of it, the only part of it, the only part of it we can see. 

We have nowhere to go, nosite to be. We look forward into photowords. We look forward. We look.
ecr. l'inf.