Relics
This tired kimono found in a Sinjuku thrift store.
Light as a fist full of air. Silk so thin you could almost see through its delicate embroidered foliage. White on white. Seams, so patiently put together years ago, now unraveling their story through smiles opening in the fabric. Fluffs of padding broken in pieces between its panels, it was hanging with hundreds of others, like roles waiting to be donned.
Silk cocoon. Carefully woven caterpillar’s nest.
Enveloping my body, it erases its shape while revealing its depth. Flexibility of assembly allowing transformations. Aerial skin. Translucent in the stage light, it comes to life. Awakens to become a body, a partner in my movement. The time of a pas-de-deux, its luminosity becomes flesh.
The audience, witness of the duplication, holds its breath, transported into illusion.