Her brains are in great shape. She is obsessed with water, but she is not allowed to drink that much, peeing on the floor. She is accepting to wear diapers in hope to get to drink some more. Other neighbors think she is in great shape so it is probably fine that we take four weeks off.
We heard the oriole sing and in a little bit we will drive half an hour to our favorite French thrift shop Emmaus. To give in to my clothing addiction. Balancing on my line of not-travesty, not-too-womanly, not-too-manly. Finding some correct items brings me a temporary amount of self. Which is the heart of every addiction. In the closed department of the elderly home I entered a woman with a t-shirt saying ‘almost weekend’. A black swan flew on eyesight, we nevertheless went the wrong way. We need to walk to see things. We see all the birds of prey while sitting behind the house, but we need to walk in order to see them.
In the morning I run. Very slow. To set my mind in order. To come to a point I don’t need to write. To write in order to experience some excistence. Last night my son built up a nightbutterfly-set with a white sheet and a very bright lamp. Such beautiful creatures passed by. Where are we here for? What does it all mean? Just be like a nightowl, with functional beauty, fly and do what you need to do. You really need to be one, a whole, for that. While running I got the idea to work on just one drawing for three weeks. It will never happen. I went to a second hand shop and saw an elderly lady reroll entangled wool. A giant cardbox full. She thought I should buy a yellow hat against the sun. I bought a vintage French petrol colored overall.
Geen opmerkingen:
Een reactie posten