Some days it seems too hard to face the life I build.
I imagine being released into the wild, disappearing. Drowning slowly in a warm swamp, consumed by quicksand, my flesh torn to ribbons by hungry fearsomes. Each summer’s end I dream of being carried to the other side of the world and dropped in the desert with nothing but my determination to find my way home. I see my hands clawing over hills of sand, dragging this body back. I don’t understand here some days, I don’t understand belong.
At the zoo are amazing displays of the unabashed character each animal plays. Clear conversations between want, bugger off, and consent. Violence is real. There are consequences. Facing forward, looking back at me, actions scream “look here!”, “attention!”. My life as an actor is no different – one always knows their audience and performs…
My jealousy of visual artists has boiled inside for decades – to create with no one around, no collaboration needed – Art life alive outside the artist’s active gesture and gaze.
What is this malaise?
Your fingers deep in my muscles brings me to awake. I wiggle into these pinpoint pains, gratefully breathing in the air around us. Thank you for alive. My mind opens, here exists, what we make in this moment is a beautiful reminder of alive.
To Breath and Being,
~ Karin
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~Thank you.
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