Rochester : 2017-

This is an extension of my fragments,a journey of trying to belong in a new world, a new space, confined yet vast.

I roam like a lover lost, looking for the other knowing well that this other can never be reached for me. A silence prevails over the body as I look to belong to these spaces.

A place which is carrying on the drudgery of life, in a desire to exist, like I am.

This is what the death of a city looks like to me , a fragile trace of the past.

Rochester has outlived its past and carrying on with its economic and racial crisis but ignored by most. Only survived by its history and art.

An American Dream that collapsed and is on a path to reconstruction. This is not a description of a dying city but a decaying self in this situation.

The uncertainty of the unknown makes me want to explore what lies around.  So I observe what constitutes my surroundings to give it another definition of a home. I know not what a Home really is as I have been in transit for a long time. Almost like stuck in a limbo. A chord between reality and dream.

This is another definition of "Home", another dream in the journey of life, alone miles in solitude.

These are photographs of man-made presence ,with hardly the presence of any being. The photograph bears testimony that I was here. Or was I really ?

The repetitions of moments talk about the monotony of my life in here just like a lab rat for a science experiment who lives life in a framed cage and yet is free on his own terms till death.

These too are fragments of living a death.

 

Work in Progress. Book.

Fragments of the Dying Man.

Chapter 2.

If I go, I'm going shameless,

I'll let my hunger take me there...