This is a castle.
This is a ruin of a castle.
This is a prehistoric dwelling carved into a rock.
This is the street on the way to the butcher shop.
This is some one’s backyard garden on the way from the butcher shop to the car.
This is my feet, the corner of a bag full of ground beef and chicken thighs, a used q-tip, and a smushed packet of cigarettes with the words “smoking kills” in big, block letters, in French.
This is me wondering how the past meets the present, how death joins with life, and how I came to find myself at the junction of all these, wrapped in the packaging of a medieval fairytale mashed-up with a Michel Gondry film.