By Ricky Garni

In the photograph, I am pointing at something just to the left of the photographer.
Whatever it was, is gone now. It either died or moved or changed into something
completely different. If I were to go back to that exact spot (and I know where it is, right
near the mango tree in the backyard) and were I to point in the same direction, what
would I be pointing at? Something that will die or move, or change into something else.
Perhaps it will change into what it was when I pointed at it the first time. Perhaps it was
someone I loved, and they loved standing under the mango tree.

Ricky Garni was born in Miami and grew up in Florida and Maine. He works as a graphic designer by day and writes music by night. COO, a tiny collection of short prose printed on college lined paper with found materials such as coins and stamps, was recently released by Bitterzoet Press.