Mother, fellings, Cognac

mother, feelings, cognac.
it’s that occurrence of unstable boundaries between things you experience, as if you’re on a beach with the same temperature as the sea.
photographs are softening, losing their frames in relation to the infinite amount of them generated daily, like a never ending morning never reaching the afternoon or the day after. like alcohol free beer, CBD hummus.
whether it’s decaf, mustard ice cream or breastfeeding your outlines are thawing, as though you’re napping on an edgeless sofa which may be the floor after all but it’s uncertain, like asphalt in the August heat, you’re sleepwalking without sleep in a fog of blue and pink, which is really too sour or too sweet.

—Ketuta Alexi-Meskhishvili and Elene Abashidze