Sunday, 5 June 2011
I didn't mean to do this; say out loud, here, what I really think, but, I will now.
I struggle with transitioning.
I miss my island home.
I can't see my shoreline.
I can't think at all.
As I move forwards into a void, I leave behind a place of memories, of sadness and peace, insulated and isolated from the other world of grown up real people living real lives earning real money to buy real stuff.
What I want I can't buy, I can only feel..........and remember.
The studio I worked in every day and the shoreline I walked every day, knit together into an unimaginable warmth and sense of 'rightness'.
I left them both.
The image above is one I took on Saturday. It's of my studio door; smashed in, the interior scattered in the search for....whatever a mindless brain conjures up.
Imagine a blackbird's voice at dusk, the soft whisper of waves dropping onto sand, now look again at the image above and hear the thoughts of the person who has violated my space, my memory, my studio on Arran. What sounds did they make as they kicked in the red door into an unknown world.
I am sad.