kirie | key | キリ

my immigrant mother wanted me to be a nurse - I attempted to pursue that path a little over four years. the foundations of chemistry barely hung on in the grooves of my brain, organic chemistry owned my ass, biology was lukewarm, at least the imagery was fascinating.

lab time was amusing. observing how heat, fire, various solutions and certain concoctions create a range of colorful reactions. each ingredient necessary for an experiment, came from somewhere, for a certain purpose, in order for this reaction to take place.

the flesh that I will live in for the rest of my life is an outcome of diasporic individuals that all happen to come together after by happenstance meeting (and doing ~the nasty~). every material item that exists has traveled at least a couple centimeters. through the course of time, whether or not we desire to stay is in flux, very rarely does anything stay in one place. and by this methodology, technically, isn’t everything and everyone in flux between being a migrant and an immigrant?

——

making many wobbly attempts to make space for art while being in transition, in search of redefining what home is. something experimental, wandering off the path a little bit. diving back into digitals is fun despite the severe eye fatigue. fake riso until I understand real riso!