In the ailanthus tree I saw myselfwafting between branches and theirunfallen flowers. I balancedin the air, perfecting a kind of nonchalancenobody needs anymore. I lacked theanalogy for what I hadn’t felt yet. I triedto make myself predictable, banal, andfor years was my own analyst. In frontof where I waited I could hear rumblinglike water rushing […]

Original source: https://www.nybooks.com/articles/2023/02/23/self-portrait-alan-felsenthal/