From any angle the photograph is busy: a wide-angled concrete fence, the criss-cross of a clothesline, a bed of stones, shingles of a roof, and more. There is also a spread of shadowy forms, including those of plants and a shirt. The illusion appears to such a degree that shadow is on the same plane as substance. In one sense this is a photograph of a corner of a backyard. Seen differently, there is no specificity to this place, as though a mirage is suspended in time.

— Emmanuel Iduma

I took the photograph in Kigali, Rwanda, 2024. The windows in my apartment in Kimironko are made of one-way glasses. One morning, as I tried to pull the window close, I noticed that the towel and shirts on the clothesline looked euphoric. I grabbed my camera that rested on books on the floor in the corner of the living room and took multiple photographs of the image.

This is a poetic photograph. I chose it for it uniquely portrays an ordinary scene from Kigali as a dreamscape. 

All places are psychedelic, especially when they are seen by nostalgic or new eyes. I am interested in showing people that dreams are everywhere in the ordinary. I think photography archives our experience with beauty, hence a camera is a museum of gratitude. Gratitude is impactful because it reminds us that there is beauty to fall back on when poverty and war and whatnot are making the world look ugly.

— Alain Jules Hirwa

Alain Jules Hirwa is the author of the chapbook Hairpins (Akashic Books). His work is forthcoming or has appeared in Wasafiri Magazine, Poetry Society of America, Lolwe and Transition Magazine. More of his work can be found on Instagram and on Porter House Review.