It’s Not Quiet In The Void, by Annie Aries, takes you within the warm reaches of an expanse. Piercing you with softened shards of sound like sea glass, and high voltage threads woven into thick cord.
Dawn, turning tangerine and bristling with potential. A slow lunge, undeniable change, an unveiling, recognition, intangible certainty like meaning within a dream, a threshold.

Revelation settles and what is left is unknown, a seesaw between our pillars of understanding.

It’s not quiet in the void, where there is ceaseless oscillation, where needles spin then settle then spin again, sustained by the constant of their unknowing.

There is a stillness in the uninterrupted travel. It’s not quiet in the void, things appear distant, suddenly in front, only to settle far off.

Surrounded in sound, you turn on the tap and liquid comes out in varied consistencies. Some lands on your shoulder and rolls slowly down your arm, thick like molasses, and some streams rapidly off your limbs, and some suspends around you, too light to fall any further. It all looks like water.

It’s not quiet in the void, where the small becomes immense and the immense becomes small.

Text by Mimi Kind