When we look closer, what do we first see? What do we want to see? What do we come to see?
Two years ago I discovered a book called “The Topography of Tears” by Rose-Lynn Fisher. In it, Fisher has arranged photos she took of tears as they can be seen through a microscope. They range from happy tears to sad tears, tears of grief to tears of discovery. Each one is so different, so intricate; so alien and yet so familiar. They immediately spoke to me and inspired me to write what they were telling me. I put these excerpts into a braided essay on tears that still sits safely in my documents folder. Yesterday I revisited this exercise, but pivoted to taking my own photos using my son’s microscope, capturing items in or around our home. Below are some of the images I’ve taken and written about so far.
COFFEE and OAT at 4x magnification
Are you lonely, little moon? No one to tread on you, plant a flag in you. No one to chart your craters and domes. No one to speculate which ancient flows have caused your scars. No one to look upon your ridges on sleepless nights. You are part of a passing moment not meant to be seen, but on your surface there are so many things – a cow, a chicken, an eagle. Perhaps you are not lonely at all.
LETTUCE at 4x magnification
I grew this. But I did not toil to do so. I did not till the soil. I did not pull weeds. I did not fight off critters or spray for bugs. I say I grew it, but a machine provided the light. I can not claim to be a farmer, but I did see the wonder in my son’s eyes as he tracked the progress from seed to sprout to something we could eat.
SALT at 4x magnification
If you let them, they will suck you dry.
PLANT at 10x magnification
I talk to my plants. Do they wish they could talk to me? Is there a message hidden in their cellular level – a morse code waiting to be interpreted? What would they say? Perhaps not S E N D H E L P, but rather M O R E W A T E R L E S S S U N R E A D T O U S W E A R E L I S T E N I N G
RAIN at 4x magnification
He steps in puddles. He splashes in the bath. He spills his water. He cries like the rain.