Today’s near window is a photo essay from Eliza Cox. Eliza Cox is from Adelaide, and can currently be found in Paris. She takes a million photos but hasn’t posted anything on Instagram since 2017. She also has stacks of undeveloped film.
Tag Archives: memory
Near Window 20
Time This morning I said I’d get up, but I didn’t. I said I’d do work but I didn’t. I said I’d do a lot of things but I haven’t. Instead I put on this song and danced in my room around the sunsquare, like the breeze coming in through the window, like hot coffeeContinueContinue reading “Near Window 20”
Near Window 17
The body is a cathedral It is easter week. For all lapsed catholics its an interesting thing, to remember the traipse to mass, the week long vigil you spend running back and forth to church. The emotional release of maundy thursday, weeping in a pew for all those whove gone before, holding vigil like youreContinueContinue reading “Near Window 17”
Near Window 11
… an interesting question. This time last year I was resurfacing from a pretty deep depression. I know this because I remember, but I was reminded of it because my Instagram archive decided to display some choice pieces of last spring for me to look at. Most of my content last year was me waxingContinueContinue reading “Near Window 11”
Near Window 9
Caribou, confinement, and the coming of spring “It is spring, that is to say that it is approaching THE BEGINNING” Scrolling through Twitter at some god awful hour this morning I saw a green and yellow painting of daffodils. Mottled grey blue of sky and brown thatch of distant trees reminiscent of the arrival ofContinueContinue reading “Near Window 9”
Near Window 7
Divine moments of friendship Just now I accidentally barged in on a friends meet up in the Houseparty app. She’d sent me a link to be her friend on it and like some fucking boomer I was fidgeting around clicking buttons and SUDDENLY there I was in their little hangout. Embarrassing. I wanted the digitalContinueContinue reading “Near Window 7”
Near Window 5
Night Mail I’m a letter writer. I write letters when I’m angry, or sad, or overjoyed, to the person who is the source of this emotion. I never send them. I wrote a letter about Rodin’s the Kiss to a boy I’d kissed some time ago, but I lost it when my computer caught aContinueContinue reading “Near Window 5”
Near Window 1
A square of gold on crumpled white linen. A warm left knee catching the first few days of March sunshine. A sky clean as kitchen walls, and air the colour of breakfast, if breakfast has a colour at all. I look at my palm for maybe fifteen minutes. The criss-cross of the future etched onContinueContinue reading “Near Window 1”
A brief encounter with left melancholia, and how Auden showed me the way out.
I tweeted, prior to the election results, that I was worried that the election would go like the scene at the beginning/end of A Brief Encounter – where Celia Johnson watches Trevor Howard walk out of her life forever. That all this would be was a brief touch on the shoulder, that Corbyn would havenContinueContinue reading “A brief encounter with left melancholia, and how Auden showed me the way out.”
Memphis – Public loss, public mourning.
Memphis is one of those cities where its history feels much too close to the surface. The blues seeps underneath your feet like a pulse, as though you were standing on the back of the beast, and the blues were its heartbeat. The ghosts of those gone by walk, ‘up union avenue’ or, can beContinueContinue reading “Memphis – Public loss, public mourning.”
Goose FM 