No, it’s not about the car, I like the car. It’s not about the person lying on the ground in the background. It’s about the space in between.
It’s about what happens in us as we move our eyes on the picture from the car to the human being—or the other way around.
For me, it’s a turmoil. A twist in the stomach. A quiet voice reminding me that both pictures are a part of this city in this moment of the world I am walking in. It’s a moment of huge discomfort, a chaos of emotions, an unwillingness to accept that one image follows the other: a person lying there with a small cup for coins, and seconds later, the glossy impression of a luxury car.
Something inside me screams, “too much.” Can I hold and witness the scream?
And yet, it’s so easy to shut down. To avert the eyes, look at the phone, let the mind wander, create a rational story of who is guilty, not etc. . … or to click this post away.
This is not about solutions. Not about stories or condemnation. Not about choosing a side.
It’s about staying with what’s there. Just for a few seconds longer than we otherwise would and allow it to enter our system.
This is not a war scene. Not a crime scene. Not a moment demanding emergency care … something is just happening here, every day. Something to us all.
Can we hold this space in between? Can we allow ourselves to feel it—without fleeing?
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