(etching, courtesy of Roxana) Things draw to a close; that's okay, you're not the first one. It's not okay...
You think you can draw a circle around your life and the lives of others, protecting them from vulnerability, change, illness, but it simply doesn't work like that. You haven't got the strength of character to live with the flux, displacement-or maybe that's just the cards you were dealt.
All those books, words, stored up against life/death. The escape, home a refuge, a raft in the stream of things so that you don't have to talk to anyone, engage with...what an awful word: engage! Time passes, you've nearly lost your bearings, places and memories accumulate in you, the blue shadow behind your mind's eye, time out of mind. This great desire to shed skin, walk away. A strain in modernity: the desire for lightness, superficiality, laughter, emptiness, not too much "meaning" or the 'wisdom of the east' type of nonsense; to divest oneself of names, traditions, definitions..to speak with an authentic voice, elemental gestures, without quotations, clichés, stock phrases; to be close to nature again, putting images and mirrors to one side, striking the right note...art transformed into life.
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