If loss were a currency

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One sometimes wonders if silence speaks loudest not only because it signals to an absence, or an inability to articulate despite wanting to, but that it reminds us that even in whatever is said, uttered, yelled, there is always also a silence accompanying it, walking beside it, within it. And it be tales which hold on to these silences who speak loudest to us.

I Was There is one such tale. A story by Helena Kuc as inherited by - and simultaneously born(e) through - her granddaughter, Kamila Kuc, it is both from before and after her. So, two tales telling themselves in their own times and contemporaneously, with each other. Fully cognisant that what is lost in the telling, in all tellings, what remains silent, is the now - that remains for the ones who watch, the ones who listen, the ones who see.

That it be the ones attending to these tales - Laima Leyton, Ecka Mordecai, Dara Waldon, Jeremy Fernando, Kamila Kuc herself, and you - who hold on to this loss. A loss that is a currency: not just because it is traded, shared, but always also electric, charged. Where all of us run the risk of being charged and held accountable for - and potentially recharged and electrified by - opening ourselves to that loss.