Biomachines

An encounter with an Artist Unknown.

There was something primal about him. Candid. He spoke of cats and dogs, art and trash, work and money. Years later, this memory and a piece of his artwork are still stuck with me.

Follow along with the Audio Version of this story, read by the writer.
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“We are biomachines,”

he said. He pointed at the dog for contrast:

“He’s organic.”

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“We make buildings, we make money. We wake up, we work.”

The dog whose Mother was a cat circled around us.

“He doesn’t work. He’s free. We work for them.”

He made art out of scraps. Metal pipes, plastic bottles, neon lamps.

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“It’s a heart,”

I thought.

“It’s a gift.”

Written by

Artist. Researcher. Immigrant. I investigate the links between mental health and environmental health.

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