zinc and baby powder
Week 1 Message from Zinc
Dear Baby Powder,
I slept until noon, and it sounded like there was thunder and strong wind outside. It reminded me of a day from my childhood, when a strong wind knocked over an electric pole and collapsed the wall of our yard. My family spent four days repairing it, but a large dent remained on the wall. To cover it up, we planted a pomelo tree there. Many years later, when we tasted the fruit from the tree, we had already forgotten the scar beneath it—hidden under the thick leaves, concealed by the sweet flavor.
Can you imagine what that scar actually looked like? In truth, it may not have come from the impact, or from how we repaired it, but from the countless times I imagined it.
Best
Zinc
week 2, message from baby powder
Dear Zinc,
It’s strange how something meant to cover a scar can keep growing, and last even longer than you. Maybe it’ll continue into the next generation.
Does that imagined shape ever make you uneasy?
Lately, I’ve found myself collecting words from small, passing moments. I’ll try to turn them into a song.
The seatbelt alarm that won’t stop ringing.
The repeated search for a sense of ritual.
A sense of existence.
Your happiness is enough for me.
Making endless excuses for myself.
That flame like burnt orange.
Aladdin’s chair.
A mansion worth a hundred million.
Regret in time I can’t get back.
A poodle sculpture with a broken tail.
Someone who keeps holding all the heavy feelings.
The struggle of not knowing how to love myself.
Learning to hold emotions gently.
A colonized heart I can’t break free from.
A keyboard with no feedback.
That glass horse still hanging from the light frame.
Fabric that still carries your scent.
The dark circles I dare not speak of.
Always rushing to catch up.
A translation that slipped away.
The cost of trying to be understood
The more I understand, the less I seem able to love.
From
Baby Powder
week 3, message from zinc
Dear Baby Powder,
Thank you for your words. They felt familiar, like something that passes through my mind when I'm focused, but disappears before I can describe it.
These words are so precise. Each time I read them, it feels like sound has turned into their specimen.
I've never dared to truly face my own imagination. Once you try to hold it, it goes silent.
Zinc
week 4, message from baby powder
Dear Zinc,
They exist only in a fleeting moment, ephemeral, delicate, and all too easily forgotten.
Silence, perhaps is a blessing. Asking nothing, expecting nothing.
Lately, I’ve been moving through places, through my body. A quiet loop of change. The unexpected no longer feels surprising.
I hope you’re well.
Baby Power
