Just A Speck
I spoke to a speck of dust the other day
Just a casually at first
about weather-stuff and what we had for dinner
The speck looked just like a speck on the neck of a family member
Cursed to bits, that speck,
but still my favorite attribute of that person
Greyish and irregular
A blob really
I think they got it removed.
We kept talking the speck and I
Of big and small, far and wide
All of it
I went to bed, my belly full of friendship’s content.
Today the speck was gone.
I spoke to another speck of dust
It didn’t speak back.
Ruairi Fallon Mc Guigan’s (1993 Belfast) paintings, prints and objects combine memories, architectural desires, the domestic and his cultural background. Fictional spaces are constructed and distorted in order to convey insight into his political and domestic existence.