A Wallflower in the Amazon, Paula Tatarunis
A Wallflower In The Amazon Paula Tatarunis 1952-2015 What struck me first was thickness. I deplaned into the aromatic raptures of volume, onto a third axis of gravity, density, proliferation. Mere perimeter, somersaulting around the x, pirouetting on the y, englobed -- it was not just the vertigo of a rough descent, persisting across the length of the humid aeroporto, or for the duration of the trip from Manaus to Manacapuru, and it was more than the times your cross-eyed stare pulled me into mezzo-relievo from the wall. It was a profusion of π beyond my wildest dreams. Oh, I recognized voracities, invaginations, efflorescences, even lianas, beaks, and pharynxes. But everything was star crossed, oestral and vaguely encrypted, and I had no words for the particular way the hot brown water purled between roots and banks, nor for the tattered, green fornix quivering overhead. Even the shadows were sphinctered, shuttered, irised, an
