"Let them sink. Let them sink. Let them sink." We walked into the gallery. "Let them sink. Let them sink. Let them sink." The whispering of this unknown man's voice made my spine stiffen. It covered my skin in chills. Everything became dark. I falsely admired the artwork surrounding me, inching my way towards this chant. It conquered all other thoughts. I saw the video; the greyscale bottom half of a man's face, upside down with a five o'clock shadow. I watched his mouth form these vowels and consonants, not in sync with the audio reel. My eyes wandered to the description. "Lip Sync" This is when it occurred to me that my senses were wrong. I found comfort in the plaque that clarified my interpretation. I continued on through the gallery. His voice carried. The harsh whispering. "Let them sink. Let them sink. Let them sink." It wouldn't change. I sought the actual words. They were nowhere to be found. "Let them sink. Let them sink. Let them sink." I turned the corner. There, another audio piece introduced itself. "Let them sink. Let them sink. Let them sink" in collaboration with a child screaming. "Let them sink. Let them sink. Let them sink." Screaming. Dark. I tried to escape the sounds and give myself to actuality, but there was no way out. Seconds and minutes passed. The artwork only traveled through the most surface layers of my mind. I continued to the back of the museum. A piece consisting of only typewriter ink; aesthetically formatted and printed in black and red. Deciphering the code, it read "HUMAN SKULLS AND BONES" "CONVENT" "A VIEW FROM THE CHURCH TOP" "SIN". "Let them sink. Let them sink. Let them sink." Darker. I continued to the next piece. A worn newspaper with a graphite sketch over it. The articles featuring news about South American slaves. The art, drawn over the articles, a line of five black men, metal chains around their necks, a hand thrust forward. Eyes whited out. "Let them sink. Let them sink. Let them sink." A child screaming. "HUMAN SKULLS AND BONES." A battle in my mind; dark masking light. A battle between consciousness and a dissociative state; thoughts masking presence. "Let them sink. Let them sink. Let them sink." Screaming. "SIN". Eyes whited out. It is a chamber of my mind seldom visited. It is menacing. It is morbid. It is everything that is ominous and beautiful. I wanted to bask in it. I wanted to escape from it. I wanted to know it. I wanted to dismiss it. Eyes whited out.
It is a chamber of my mind seldom visited, but I didn't want to leave.