Symmetric and asymmetric rooms — when the purpose of the room differs, what gets evaluated, where the eyes actually land, differs too. The asymmetric one isn't really person-to-person; it's more like facing a system, or something in that shape. I do see the logic too — allow one exception and that exception starts to pass as the rule. Still, the ones on the receiving end are human beings, so wanting a proper reason explained rather than a single notice — that's just how a human heart works, I think. Putting it out on paper is easy. But having that one piece of paper make it as if all the accumulation up to now never existed — that's a sad thing.
You got it clearly. An asymmetric room is a person facing a system. And the system deliberately skips the explanation. A reason can be argued with. A notice cannot.
I like what you wrote. One page ended the acknowledgment, but the 27 years still happened. The people were there. The photographs exist. That accumulation needs a place to live when the institution stops acknowledging it. That place is the record. Next Monday's essay is about that place, and you just asked the question I plan to examine.
Symmetric and asymmetric rooms — when the purpose of the room differs, what gets evaluated, where the eyes actually land, differs too. The asymmetric one isn't really person-to-person; it's more like facing a system, or something in that shape. I do see the logic too — allow one exception and that exception starts to pass as the rule. Still, the ones on the receiving end are human beings, so wanting a proper reason explained rather than a single notice — that's just how a human heart works, I think. Putting it out on paper is easy. But having that one piece of paper make it as if all the accumulation up to now never existed — that's a sad thing.
You got it clearly. An asymmetric room is a person facing a system. And the system deliberately skips the explanation. A reason can be argued with. A notice cannot.
I like what you wrote. One page ended the acknowledgment, but the 27 years still happened. The people were there. The photographs exist. That accumulation needs a place to live when the institution stops acknowledging it. That place is the record. Next Monday's essay is about that place, and you just asked the question I plan to examine.