Packed and folded, squished and just tolerated, posing for this portrait is one of the many methodical things that Jack does for me daily. Jacky boy is my partner of almost five years. We met in Devonport, in our year nine art class. On our first date we watched “Delivery man”. We blossomed, relocated, redefined. He is possibly the softest, most calm Devonportian I know. He isn’t fazed by honesty; he makes it easy to see reality.
Every day we sleep in the same box, drive in the same box, breathe in the same box of air, and now years later our brains have come to think in the same box. I see him most clearly at night, when the thinking box is vivid.
In this box we hide and comfort, rest and cry, be ourselves entirely, await the future in a contained fever.
I feel that these margins, at times, can be claustrophobic. We should easily suffocate. But there’s a substance, a spark, that breathes us a breath of fresh air.
Until that next gust, we hold.