There was this other place, amassing peeled walls vanquished by regiments of moss and mustiness, blankets of green, leaves swallowing water like starving sponges, marks of feet that had walked through the mud spilling whimsy which can be neither spoken nor seen, a cellar with its door gone missing and an invitation to dead-dancing through the dark and dust and sobbing echoes, burdensome fog walking densely from one side to the other, clasping that scrap of quietude and bygone secrecy. Its solemnity pushed me aside, laughing in my face as I watched my blue-green-yellow boots stepping in mud against my will. Its stingy moisture pressed the tip of my breasts and made me drop a quick shout and a slap which I left hanging in the air, like the gestures we sometimes make hoping to be noticed, yet we never are. The frivolity of my being there could have made me walk away doddering, but the smell which subdued the small yard was so beautiful, that it kept me waiting for something to come up and scare me away. And I waited, and sat on a cold brick threshold until my cotton dress almost glued itself on my freezing behind, I walked my fingers along the studs and leather around my neck, I plaited small locks of my greasy hair and I kept counting seconds, then minutes, but the silence just grew stronger.
I’m always looking for new beginnings in places that win my fancy and hollow out my sorrows. But they don’t always show up. I try to drain beauty from every nook I find it in, but it keeps slipping away. I try to drain my heart and bleeding gut, but my mind fleas elsewhere. I always end up screaming and yawning. Could I ever be a good match to myself?
* Fashion-wise: I hope you DO notice the jewelry I’m wearing here, because it sure is no ordinary one.
Check out An Art Wall, where the talented Ioana writes her words in leather. You must know how I love beautiful words in whatever language they were ‘written’ or ‘spoken’ or ‘carved’ or ‘colored’, so seeing Ioana’s designs and getting to wear them too just adds up to my conviction that, after all, living in a small town doesn’t keep one back from growing!
* Photography by my dearest ana cu a mic (I for one feel compelled to spell her name in capital letters, but hey, if that’s how she likes it, that’s how it is!)
* I was wearing necklaces, earrings and bracelets (leather & studs) from An Art Wall, thrifted dress (which I adore!), my beloved Litas and another vintage bag that is about to come to pieces (just like all of my bags). And yes, that’s lipstick and pretty much nothing else.
- A less ordinary day
- The waiting syndrome