I want to speak to sexuality in secluded places, tiny rooms and dark parks, rough conversations about misinterpretation and emotion. I want you to think the thought, of a tiny flicker, of individual humanity that can exist at the interface of imagination. I saw two girls touching each other on late night television, seemingly enjoying the experience, which I suppose aroused an adolescent reaction in me. But there was no replay in those days so I just let it be a moving event, but that moment in time still bleeds through the layers which have piled on top of it. There is a fascinating clarity to the lack of immediate understanding, by the replacement of thoughts with feelings. A solitary experience viewed, remembered. Sitting in a dark room with a flicker of light wondering if anyone was thinking the same thing as I was, feeling the same way I felt.