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When Something Goes, Something Remains by Josepha Gutelius

Published On Friday, May 11, 2012. Under: Featured, Gutelius.
I pause on the fifth step, pursued by no one. And nothing to see, except a painting on the wall of a man wearing my floral nightgown, Colt 45 in hand, a glossy finish. A lousy painting, nothing but an exact reproduction of the last photograph I took of him. Is there nothing left for the imagination anymore? You project a photo slide onto a canvas, then you just fill it in with paint. But it’s so lifelike I have an instant’s reflex to whisk myself out of harm’s way, my head down low, to duck the bullets. But no bullets come, they’ve disappeared, chronologically speaking.