A Project Arcade

The kind of laughter that comes from elsewhere, perhaps even from nowhere. Not that we can ever control when, or why, we laugh. But this was a laughter like no other. A belly laugh. Keeping in mind that one can only laugh with, perhaps at, another; even if the other is oneself. But, certainly, only in relation—a reaching out between one and another, both never quite in the same space: apart even as both are a part of each other. Perhaps with an arch in between. Never forgetting that laughter comes to us. And sometimes takes over us. Moves us beyond ourselves, our self. But even as laughter potentially disrupts, ruptures, breaks apart, we should also never forget that it opens—that even as it tears us, perhaps brings us to tears, it also quite possibly exposes us to another, to otherness. And as we cry (cri) it might just write (écrit) onto us. A writing that grows. Nourishes us. Like milk. And as it augments, there is always also something potentially called forth—something that is not of us, something divined. Not that we can know what it is that is augured. But even as there is growth, we should recall that writing is of the order of death. Thus, an absence that grows. Perhaps a growth precisely due to absence. An absence that allows us the space to grow—by disappearing. White ink. Where all we are reading—all we can read—is the not-. And at that point, is there anything we can do but chuckle …

Jeremy Fernando feat Yanyun Chen April 2013 Singapore