OFLUXO

Lately I’ve been seeing them everywhere. Stuffed toys in windows, antiques on shelves, preserved in museums or else a green car, a weird aberration on the sidewalk, a woman crouching to retie her shoe. I guess it’s all about when looking becomes seeing, opening oneself up to being touched by the world. A therapist once told me that love is a mystery to be lived rather than a problem to be solved. Allowing things to be anomalous, ineffable. Frogs operate simultaneously as good luck and plague vessels. Kermit bemoans “it ain’t easy being green,” Pepe is stolen and abused by vicious trolls, and “the frog is dead and buried” after Michigan J. Frog’s demotion at Warner Bros. There’s nothing particularly comforting about the frog, with its slimy shell and throaty wails. Nevertheless, having eyes opened up to the ever-present green beings has been a delight and a challenge. The specter of unknowing becomes a chance for discovery, change, communion. A frog is a feeling.