nAbr gallery is pleased to present Less Room for the Living by Derek Ernster.
Me: In my memory, this room was larger. This room and others I have been in before this, empty rooms, all of them are so spacious…
You: (Interrupting) That’s because you aren’t in the room when you recall it, you are just disembodied eyes moving about in no space at all, seeing what you want to see, seeing what you please. When is the last time you saw your boots on your feet when you remembered a room? Or felt your sore feet in your boots? How long have we been standing here, anyway?
Me: We just walked in.
Me: Or the floor, you won’t remember those dusty footprints! Or the outlets in the wall? Could you find your way around this room in the dark, or would you just walk around with you arms stuck out like a child?
Me: It might feel bigger if you were someplace else, just myself here, in this room alone. Its like dropping an ice cube in a glass of water that is already full. All of the space I remembered is just trickling over the edge, moving somewhere else.
You: Like we ought to be doing anyhow. Just bobbing around in an empty room and he calls me an ice cube. We’re both ice cubes, melting as we stand here talking about nothing in an empty room!
Me: Then the next time I pass through, it will be full again, not a space at all, just a collection of odds and ends. A room that is occupied is hardly a space at all. It calls for a handshake, not a stroll.
You: Try not to blink.