strange days

This is my favorite Ernst painting (thanks for the book, Marianne!). For some reason during these strange days … this painting has been so real these days… invading dreams,
becoming nightmares when I can actually sleep.
Things get far more strange and beautiful in a sense on little sleep.
Peoples’ voices are stronger.
While so much is numb.
“Remember to breathe” says Aaron in his northwestern neighborhood.
We breathe now. Both of us, conscious of it completely.
That, too, is an odd beauty like this bird-bride.
Against my own best interest tonight, I read more Fernando Pessoa writing as Bernardo Soares in the The Book of Disquiet:
The carts in the street purr slow, distinct sounds in seeming accord with my drowsiness. It’s lunchtime but I’ve stayed in the office. It’s a warm day, a bit overcast. And the sounds, for some reason, which might be drowsiness, are exactly like the day.
Sometimes it is hard to know what to do with oneself.
Even if you know the answer to all you have wondered about.
Published in: on April 4, 2008 at 4:05 am  Leave a Comment  

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