one of the few stories circulating online for years and which really touched me is the one with the lingerie.(*)
i spent last night talking to my sister (again), in a concrete encased new club... we have quite different takes on life, probably because our lives have been so fundamentally different in the past ten years. but we are from the same roots and there is a special kind of sibling understanding that nothing can match. (things you might consider to be implied in another person thinking are very often your own illusion, because we tend to take the common/similar background to run deeper than it does in fact) this closeness has its downside of course, most often reflected in a feeling of expectation on one side and the desire not to disappoint on the other...
but things become more fluent when confronted with a mental trauma, we rise to the occasion. at least WE do.
well i managed to get lost in thought in this "early" morning and the thought of what all this day will demand of me... (note to my future self: Father Romilo)
anyway, what i wanted to say, the point i started with was the idea of carpe diem, just like the big piece of cardboard still sitting on my brother's room in our parent's house, years after he had move away. i'm recollecting ideas of what would happen to my incomplete, unarticulated ideas and desires, my lingerie... so with this in mind i took the time to make a rough version of this image, my comment about the glory and adventure that can exist in life monotonous and gloomy, about the lingeries in life... and i'm thinking of a recently departed friend and his similar projects.
i dedicate it especially to the small people with small ideas, but those that are a courageous step into the brush along the road.
search and ye shall find.
(*)
the man is describing taking his wife's special lingerie out of the drawer, where he had bought it and how happy she had been, and that she had been saving it for a special occasion. the story ends with the realization that him taking the lingerie was part of the preparations for her funeral, that she had died without ever having have worn it.
i spent last night talking to my sister (again), in a concrete encased new club... we have quite different takes on life, probably because our lives have been so fundamentally different in the past ten years. but we are from the same roots and there is a special kind of sibling understanding that nothing can match. (things you might consider to be implied in another person thinking are very often your own illusion, because we tend to take the common/similar background to run deeper than it does in fact) this closeness has its downside of course, most often reflected in a feeling of expectation on one side and the desire not to disappoint on the other...
but things become more fluent when confronted with a mental trauma, we rise to the occasion. at least WE do.
well i managed to get lost in thought in this "early" morning and the thought of what all this day will demand of me... (note to my future self: Father Romilo)
anyway, what i wanted to say, the point i started with was the idea of carpe diem, just like the big piece of cardboard still sitting on my brother's room in our parent's house, years after he had move away. i'm recollecting ideas of what would happen to my incomplete, unarticulated ideas and desires, my lingerie... so with this in mind i took the time to make a rough version of this image, my comment about the glory and adventure that can exist in life monotonous and gloomy, about the lingeries in life... and i'm thinking of a recently departed friend and his similar projects.
i dedicate it especially to the small people with small ideas, but those that are a courageous step into the brush along the road.
search and ye shall find.
(*)
the man is describing taking his wife's special lingerie out of the drawer, where he had bought it and how happy she had been, and that she had been saving it for a special occasion. the story ends with the realization that him taking the lingerie was part of the preparations for her funeral, that she had died without ever having have worn it.
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