Postulate and Shadows: Halloween Collaboration - October 26th, 2014 Meet Up

All Our Shadows - @Kaisareur

All Our Shadows by Kaisareur

The bright flashes always make me flinch and turn away - I believe it's for the photo's benefit. The camera's flash is meant to add clarity to our superficial features by throwing the darkness far behind us, casting our shadows where they can't be seen. I ponder as I sip my coffee in a dim coffee shop.

However, our shadows are still present, just unseen - and even then, there's darkness lingering at the edges of our persons. It's a reminder: a dim and murky image of our bodies we still leave behind. In fact, it always seems like our shadows seem chained to us, forced to flee in an absurd circle as they pivot away from the light.

That's the photo I have before me, where the shadows all briefly receded before the brilliant light. The camera - just one of many devices that can force the darkness to re-form. I imagine the endless shifting must be awfully frustrating. I'm irritated already when I need to shy away.

I put that photo aside and pull up another. They all have same theme. I reach a set of several pictures with a tree-shaped bookshelf, complete with cardboard branches and paper leaves I raise my eyebrows; the ones without the extra lights look rather unclear. It almost seems like our faces are being embraced by murkiness. I move to the next photo, one where a flash was used. Just in the corner, at the tree's base, I see a shadow that seems to cast itself. Another photo. Again, that awkward shadow sits, leaning toward the light.

I throw my coat on and exit the shop - it's about to close anyway and the flickering lights are turning off. I'm not far from the office where the tree-shelf stood. It's dark out; there are no cars and the city seems to be sleeping. I find myself at the building door; it's conveniently unlocked - or at least, I slip through without a problem. The alarms, if any, seem to be off as well, so I exhale in relief as I make my way upstairs toward the room. I feel my way through the dark, searching for a light-switch. Finding one, I flick it and flinch away again from the bright flash. Slowly, my vision returns and I look inside the room. Nothing. The only shadow beneath the tree-shelf is its own. I look around; all other shadows cast in their proper places, furthest from the light.

I sigh. It must be good, I thought, to be that free shadow.