And she drives her car and we both listen to that dark cabaret music she loves so much. Smooth rain, winter moon, and a voice drilling inside the darkest corners of the mind.It’s Tiger Lillies. Yeah, I know…your musical obsessions.
They sing in their clean and tough British accent and neologisms dance in their mouths in their grotesque clown-like outfits. Harmonica and subtle harmonies. And my ears randomly pick up words: severed limbs. lacerated. A little deranged…
I’m running like a refugee to find a place to hide beyond my limbic system. Good, good night.
Morning and coffee. Same place. Same time. Same. Same.
And then I clicked and read. Images are motion blurred: I’m just behind you and I captured those images you didn’t, heard the music and smelled the fragrance you missed writing about. Un bărbat tânăr, creol, îmbrăcat într-un tricou negru si pantaloni lărguţi, trece pe lângă mine în paşi graţioşi de dans. Se priveşte în vitrine, are căşti în urechi şi repetă nişte mişcări ample şi studiate. Pluteşte cu graţie printre oamenii de pe trotuar. Mi se pare că doar eu mă opresc şi întorc capul să-l mai zăresc o dată pe dansatorul neaşteptat. O clipă, atât a durat spectacolul său solitar, până când l-a înghiţit nebunia oraşului. Paşii săi elastici n-au lăsat nici o urmă pe asfalt, iar gestul meu de turist care vrea să scoată aparatul de fotografiat a rămas suspendat în aer.
So many movies and acts. A fine blend of colors, taste, scents and textures. Ideas. They come and go keeping in their translucent syntagmatic hands small fragments of phrases randomly taken out subject to an algorithm I have no idea about. And they clearly look like kites. Loooong long tails and thiiiin, almost invisible thread keeping them down to …never mind. How many languages can you speak? Seven…. Wow seven languages…mystique number. True. I can say I love you dearly in 7 ways and each time those I love yous bear a different meaning.
Ssshhhh, don’t say anything. Focus on the music and dream. Or dance. Or think. Either way you have to choose. You can imagine being a child. Or just be the child that draws a pencil with its finger, and then takes the pencil and draws a door. Open it. And follow the line. It’s the simplest and smartest way to escape. Or…. remain silent in your cage doing stupid, incredibly stupid useless things.
When reading your lines I feel like a voyeur. I smile and close the door gently. While I was thinking that’s really funny. Somehow painful and funny.
The world I draw is…….. [fill in the blanks the first idea that comes to your mind].
