image title ‘cows on the lawn’
Exhibition title ‘Feed the beast that drives you’
this saturday. I’m working on it now. Well being distracted from working on it.
From the window I saw an older lady pass by.
.
.
How do we know she is different?
Her eyes don’t lift from the left of the pavement.
She doesn’t seem to walk as much as shuffel
Her hair is dirty.
I think about drawing
Most people who have passed have made me think of drawing.
.
.
Time passes and she returns
But this time shouts proceed her
Boys have found her.
.
.
How do they know she is different?
Everyone is scared of them.
How do they know she is easy game.
Do they know she is vulnerable?
Do they know what that means?
.
.
There are three of them
Passing slightly off to the back and left of her
Walking on the road and the pavement
The tall one closest to her
Says things to her loudly
They jeer
.
.
To her they can act like this
She is different
She is alone
.
.
I boil
I scramble for my keys
They are passing
I get to the door
But it’s not mine so I struggle with the unfamiliar lock
Giving up I leave it
.
.
I get out but they are gone
I stand in the middle of the road
And watch them throw the last taunts
As the boys head left and she goes on.
.
.
She did not lift her head to them
She did not interact
Did she leave her world for them
Or shuffle oblivious and unaware
.
Will I be her one day?
.
.
I leave my scowl on the tarmac
And strutt back in
On closing the door I remember
No prayer left me as I left it.
Removing my shoes
I feel shame on my pride
And wish it could come off as easily.
Tonight there’s an all invite art swap happening at the gray’s art school.
I’ve been working on a couple of things for it. Now I see them I think.
‘But I don’t want to give them away.’
So I’m reminding myself that every thing I have is just passing through my hands.
Pass Pass
This nomadic existance is just fine.
But I need somewhere to work.
This somewhere is coming into being hopefully next tuesday.
A friends out house, from his rented flat. And extension flex out the kitchen window and into me. A studio I tell you! That there shed will be my studio.
So one can expect a raised level of productivity.
That covers the pen and as for the pillow?
Well as I’ve said and felt before I am surrounded by kindness and hospitality. Sleeping somewhere new sometimes nightly doesn’t seem to affect the goodness of it. People are constantly very welcoming and giving. I hope they get something from having me around.
