Autumn
Autumn makes me tired and moody.
I lie in the bath for hours and stare at my pubic hair, simulating an alligator farm in the New Orleans marshes before and after Katrina (seen from the air, I love miniature. Mm, I have to check the map of the US ...).
I am confused and distracted. Yesterday I flushed half a cup of cold coffee in the toilet and peed in the sink.
My sense of humour tumbles into a bottomless pit, while leaves discolour and waltz with the wind….
Which reminds me of Patrick Swayze. I don’t know why. But the word s-w-ai-z-ee embodies all that autumn is today.
It’s like the word” sole” when I stand on the beach in Northern France, staring at the white cliffs of Dover in the distance. I can only think of that word. Sole, sole, sole. With every step in the sand I have to repeat it. And nearby seagulls pick it up. Sole, sole, sole, screaming it into the air.
When I was little, I used to wonder about the language of birds. But then I discovered that the mistake we make is to isolate sounds. We want to give meaning to each sound, each word, while birds speak in patterns. Their sounds draw images in the air.
Birds mimic the sound of cell phones. In the Brazilian Rain Forrest, parrots mimic the sound of chainsaws, power tools and bulldozers.
I wonder how they laugh. It must be so hard to smile with a beak.
I lie in the bath for hours and stare at my pubic hair, simulating an alligator farm in the New Orleans marshes before and after Katrina (seen from the air, I love miniature. Mm, I have to check the map of the US ...).
I am confused and distracted. Yesterday I flushed half a cup of cold coffee in the toilet and peed in the sink.
My sense of humour tumbles into a bottomless pit, while leaves discolour and waltz with the wind….
Which reminds me of Patrick Swayze. I don’t know why. But the word s-w-ai-z-ee embodies all that autumn is today.
It’s like the word” sole” when I stand on the beach in Northern France, staring at the white cliffs of Dover in the distance. I can only think of that word. Sole, sole, sole. With every step in the sand I have to repeat it. And nearby seagulls pick it up. Sole, sole, sole, screaming it into the air.
When I was little, I used to wonder about the language of birds. But then I discovered that the mistake we make is to isolate sounds. We want to give meaning to each sound, each word, while birds speak in patterns. Their sounds draw images in the air.
Birds mimic the sound of cell phones. In the Brazilian Rain Forrest, parrots mimic the sound of chainsaws, power tools and bulldozers.
I wonder how they laugh. It must be so hard to smile with a beak.
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