he faces were familiar in an unfamiliar way. I blurred them to block their gaze. My camera hung low; I shot without seeing. A singer at a microphone turned up the volume.
I kept looking up to avoid the faces. Ceiling tiles, water-leak stained. Fluorescents with dead-fly dotted diffuser covers.
I kept looking down to avoid the faces. Floor tiles were linoleum, beige.
This was a future I did not want to acknowledge, so I kept moving. As long as I kept moving, looking down, looking up, I was safe. As long as I blurred the faces I was safe.
by Ellen Jantzen