I am very carefully examining an object which cannot be seen with the naked eye. It is alive but still. The movement of the object can only be perceived by tracking its change over several days. It is dividing and expanding. One becomes two and two becomes part of the whole.
I am coming back to this object as often as possible. To look at it, to foster it, to record images of it. The object is me. It is made of me.
I am working with the object. Carefully, slowly, precisely, writing down every single thing I do. I am not thinking about the object’s nature but concentrating all my skill to practical steps to keep the object alive. I scrape, stir, spin, heat and feed. I maintain, and I do it very gently.
My focus and all my attention goes into the handling of the object. The state of focus breaks only when a sudden moment of remembering occurs. Remembering the object
is a cell population derived from my own cheek.