06 February, 2008


I am in a shapeless room flooded with light – a shining white vacuum. Before me appears an angelic form, the gender clearly feminine. Her powerful wings tremble, her long silver-white hair shines and dances in a wind that I cannot feel. The slender silhouette is wrapped in a lengthy blue gown that shimmers as if it wanted to dissolve in the glowing white of the room. I look up. The pale, expressionless face sparks a cold chill over me, but I do not hesitate as the angel reaches her hand towards me – the hand is cold but gentle and grasps my own with a firm embrace. I allow myself to be led. The formless room becomes a dry, yellow-brown path littered with stones. It vanishes at the horizon in the deep blue of the sky. As we reach the path's end, a wide, cloud-covered abyss opens before us. Now I feel the bites of the bitter wind as if it would rush me into the depths. The angel spreads her wings and leaps into the abyss, my hand still firmly held in hers, pulling me after her. Overwhelmed by the moment of weightlessness I do not notice that the angel has released my hand and dissolved into the blue inscrutability of the firmament.

I fall through the blanket of clouds, but the clouds are not soft and tender, the way I had always imagined them to be. They are sharp and rough and tear my skin away as I fall through them, ever deeper into the abyss. I see that I am drenched with blood and the clouds above me glow a tender red. I sink below into the dark-indigo realm of the Undines. The hope that the wounds of my fall through the clouds would be soothed by the pure, cold current is abruptly dissolved. The water burns in the open flesh and bloody stripes stream from my body so deeply submerged in the unfriendly blue. First these stripes are long and the color of carmine, then they become lighter and thinner until my body glides, free of blood, almost translucent, through water that no longer burns. I leave the water. I feel an increased ease of motion, a weightlessness. Each step is like gliding through the air, each movement like a dive in the sea. I find myself now in a meadow, enclosed in the distance by a forest. Gripped by the feeling that I am lighter than air I let myself fall into the wild green, grip it with hands that I ball tightly into fists to vigorously tear out tufts of grass. From the two callow spots a thick red substance begins to flow forth. It surrounds me and begins to intrude its way into my flesh still raw with wounds. The feeling of weightlessness diminishes. The blood of the Earth courses its way through my veins, closing the skin behind it. I open my eyes. The sky above me begins to darken. I smell rain in the air. With the feeling that I have lain for centuries in the meadow, I slowly pull myself upright. My heavy limbs reluctantly obey and carry me to the grove of trees that entices from the distance with its somber depths. The crowns of the century-old trees permit little light into the interior of the forest. The sense of murky green melds into the odor of damp humus, which I slowly approach until I am completely enclosed by the thicket. Gradually my eyes adjust themselves to the darkness and I am able to recognize the contours of single trees. The forest appears deserted. The sounds of shy mammals and nimble insects, even the slightest breath of wind are absent. For this reason I am surprised to see, between two somewhat narrow tree trunks, the figure of a well-grown woman.

The feeling, however, does not linger. It is replaced with a sudden certainty that this person belongs here, that this is her forest and that I, as her guest, must show her my esteem. I approach her, head bent before the mistress of the trees - she likewise steps towards me. She takes my face in her meager hands and kisses me on the forehead. Her lips are soft and warm. Though I expected cold severity, I am not surprised. She brushes her warm and arid fingers over my face and I fall asleep. Or am I dead…
I am in a shapeless room flooded with light –a shining white vacuum. Before me appears a human form, the gender clearly feminine. My powerful wings tremble, my long silver-white hair shines and dances in the wind. She looks up. I offer her my hand. She allows me to lead her.

26 August, 2007

I am not a good blogger
The idea of blogging still isn't quite clear to me – I guess I'm not a people person and blogging – as I understand it now - requires keeping up contacts, constant visiting and commenting and back-commenting, linking etc. I am bad in these kinds of things and what's worse – I am not very consequent and systematic in writing either. So all that makes me non-blogger-material, but as it is - I have a blog. So what is there to do?

Of course, I could delete the blog but as all that wouldn't be bad enough, I am not good in definite decisions either, so the blog is what it is – neither fish nor fowl.

So once again a try to reanimate the dying patient – at least I have something to tie in with – the picture. I wanted to write a story to it – I couldn't for two main reasons:

As I stated above I am not very consequent and systematic in writing – I won't analyze the phenomenon as extensively as I could but just to state that it is not laziness: besides inspiration a writer needs room for writing. Not necessarily "a" room but as Virginia Woolf states in her "A Room of One's Own" the freedom of writing without being disturbed by the everyday crap that takes most of our time and energy (of course Virginia Woolf described it with much more sophistication than I just did). Some of us – and I live with one of those – are able to just take this freedom and shut out everything else – I can't do this. Maybe the urge to write is not as strong inside me as it needs to be.

I am stuck in the first phase of writing – the idea. There it was, a sketch of a sculpture that had an immense affect on my aesthetic sensation. Therefore the story has to keep up with the affect – no romance, no happy or unhappy love, nothing of this sort – it would have to be something completely different but the harder you try to be different, the more unnatural you get. So I gave up, first to let it ripen but as usual "the everyday crap" won and here we are again.