Note; paul combrink
I was born at twelve thirty in the afternoon on the fourth of March in
the year nineteen hundred and forty-nine. The midwife was probably not checking
a stopwatch when she cut the umbilical cord. It's highly unlikely that the time
of my birth was recorded accurately down to the second. It's not impossible,
but if it was captured exactly then it's a case of dumb luck rather than
knowledge. I take note of my life when the sun is at its highest point. At noon, I
capture the image that happens to be on my retina. If it's very inconvenient to
do so, I might do it later. I take note of the time and my imperfections more
precisely than the midwife who helped me into this world. Yesterday I have recorded
the 1/228.565.996.875th part of my life. I struck at 12.05.33.8 hours. I
stilled something that disappeared instantly, replaced by a new image.
Thankfully I have evidence of what occurred. I back it up onto two hard drives and
safe it into fourteen different calendars. I don't go looking for it.
I just do what I do. Images present themselves.
The day, the minute, the second, the tenth of a second, and the exact moment.
It's practically impossible to pronounce the number of figures. The visual
experience will triumph over language. The image I captured in my 508.164th
hour occurred in the 1.466.852.979.839th second of the Chinese calendar. Four
days ago, the Chinese celebrated new year's day. Hrant Dink was born
10-02-1403 in Malatya. He was murdered 7-07-1456 in Istanbul. All this is
according to the Armenian calendar. Hrant Dink was murdered on my 21.141st day.
It is important the Armenian calendar be included in my work. However, I am
still imperfect.
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