This morning I woke up in what looks to be a stylized Italian mourning dress. My make up was still on, but my shoes had disappeared. There was no drugs involved. No alcohol. Walking past a mirror at 6 AM was both odd and enticing. I showered. No one was there to stop me. I dressed, quickly, and left while there was still water dripping from the tips of my hair.
I have been lead up to a project that will begin, officially, tonight. Although its pieces have been falling to me from the sky, found in sandwiches, written on crumpled up pieces of paper I find one the bus: It is tonight that it officially begins. The air is still in its knowing.
Will you hold my hand as I go on my adventure? I wouldn't ask. And even if you did make movement to hold it you would find, upon squeezing it, that you had been left holding
a thick rubber hand.
k.
(photograph: This is a photo of Renee Zettle Sterling's Object of Mourning Veil #4. Here is an article about the art of Renee Zettle Sterling)
(To accentuate: From the 2014 display at The Met )
No comments:
Post a Comment