Wormhole on Prairie Avenue

by: Luis Barroso-Louie

There’s a “tornado watch” until 3 o’clock. Which means look up occasionally, as if artists don’t already.

It also means know where to take shelter, well, artists keep 6 contingencies on deck because shadow work shines light on the fact that failure is always an option.

Sometimes the light is irresistible, everything it touches is a reminder the Sun is successful at being itself and a failure at keeping its rays under control, both things can be true.

Maybe wormholes are a tornado’s cousin-in-law. With hurricane uncles and vortex aunties, all judging the black sheep that funnels into another space, or time, or both.

When I smell rain on the Southside of Providence, near Prairie Avenue, by Rogers, I reminisce on 27 - before the most recent attempt on my life,

23 - before starting over again, 15 - before my frst drug inhaled, 10 - before words really mattered, and I space out about how my time would be different, or over, or both.

The closest we are to time travel is art, or some distant relative on a tornado’s family tree.

The closest we are to the leaves of space are the stray vines hanging from branches of time.

But today, wormholes are still absent parents.

It ref ects transformation and rebirth, becoming one’s most true authentic self. The frst two looks show the muse’s uncomfortableness in her current situation in life, being present but not really there and not feeling whole. Hence, she looks like she’s in agony. In the 3rd scene, with the blood and the dagger, she fnally has the courage to kill and destroy her false self. Removing all that no longer aligns with who she is becoming and is meant to be. This is her transformational period, and the last scene in the bathtub is rebirth/cleansing, which is a fresh start. To sum it up, it’s about breaking away from the matrix society and living authentically, embracing one’s true nature, being in peace and harmony, and creating a world that f ts you best.