The agitated image – James Lieutenant’s Giving up the ghost at Galerie pompom
I suppose it was the cocktail of rain and my faltering mental health that made my heart race. It was four in the morning and I was about to ride my stolen bicycle to the job that I loathed. From the kitchen window, I looked across the soupy darkness of our backyard and saw a face looking back at me from the garden bed. In a single film frame, I jolted from my disoriented stupor to rigid panic. I quickly paced down the hall, convincing myself that I had only seen my reflection in the glass. The other half of me was intent on believing that I had seen a ghost. How could my eyes deceive me?