Tati El Mallah
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does not rot
standing again on fallen ground
samaki
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CV
15.2 × 15.2 cm (6 × 6 in)
In the depths of the august heat we would drive along the corniche down from the house to the base of the Cornet Chahwan. Right by the exit to my grandmother's village where the streets are lined with shops bearing my name, a butchers, a bakers, a grocers, a library. Baba would park in the same spot along the road as if it were waiting for him, the only man to move in this slow and still corner, where the shops stood empty and the neighbors' windows remained closed.
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Donkey at the cedars of god.
Gelatin silver print on resin coated paper
15.2 × 15.2 cm (6 × 6 in)
He’d grab me from the side of the car and set me down on the ground before I’d sprint in the direction of the limestone house.
15.2 × 15.2 cm (6 × 6 in)
Everything was the same, but cracked and abrased. It was as though my hands had changed . The texture of that room, soft as fabric, had become thickened, it had felted and become perpetual.
15.2 × 15.2 cm (6 × 6 in)
The land is quiet and overgrown with vines overtaking the marlboro ends and some are so wet and trodden you can barely tell them from the soil.
15.2 × 15.2 cm (6 × 6 in)
Under the glow of that red sun we turned on ourselves and drove upwards back into the cool mountain air. We slammed into deeper potholes, swerved around corners that stayed unrepaired.