BRI NEUMANN
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NOSE The Bambara have broken the human body down into four essential parts, the four ‘workers’, which allows us to function as a whole. The tongue, the legs, the sexual organs, and the nose. I picture these parts flashing in my brain like a PowerPoint, and it is only after the presentation is over that I realize it’s not my own body parts I have been seeing, but yours. Your tongue, against my skin, and your chest, small and bony, and your legs, spindly and thin, only growing a little thick at the thighs. And your nose, always your nose. Do you remember how we used to lay on our backs with our feet in the air, staring at the shape of our bodies, comparing them? Your feet were long, Roman, statuesque. Low arch and toes shaped long and squarish, shrinking as they went down, while my feet were stubby, rounded, my toes curled and stout and my feet so arched that there is a part which will never touch the ground. We used to wind our fingers together and look at the big, flat surface of your palm against mine, so small, dipped away. There was always a little part of my hand that would never touch yours, the center. And our noses. I could stare at your nose all day. A big classic nose, like something from a museum. From the side, it curved out from your face and I always pictured you, centuries earlier, draped in a hand-woven dress with thick jewels around your neck, the subject of a royal painting. I think back then I thought you were a queen, royalty, and like some wide-eyed peasant I would do anything for you. Your skin translucent and pink-toned, your ears folded like seashells, and the dark flow of your hair. I was hypnotized when you stood before me. I thought I was gazing at something divine. That is what the peasants once thought, didn’t they? That the royalty were the descendents of the divine. In my brain, you were the original human, you were more than Eve, you were the lineage of God. Tribes in Siberia believe that we are keeping our souls hidden in our noses. Watching you paint self-portraits, I know you thought this too because you’d spend the most time perfecting the slope of your nose. Your mom always wanted you to get work done, but you thought your whole being was tucked into your nose. A self-portrait of yours had an Impressionist body and
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Volume 16 • 2021
