Thursday, December 25, 2008

The Literary Exorcism of Melancholy or How I Found The Doorway

" I went for a walk today. I left my house, down my street, I came to Grove. I turned left. Twenty minutes later, I found a path, dirt, and gravel at places. It led through some bushes and after a while, I found myself under these tall trees I'd never seen before."


"I stopped and I found this rock, an ancient old thing, looked like my grandfather. Parts were smooth, slick from rainfall but it had wrinkles and bumps too and I touched it just because I missed him."


"I brought my camera. I loaded the old film, lovingly, like a sacred ritual. Wind. Click. Looking through the lens, everything was muted, cloudy, and I felt removed. It all looked like a memory from outside. Click. Mine now."


"I brought a notebook. I pulled a chewed up pen from my sleeve and scribbled on a corner of the page until the ink ran. Blue is the colour of brilliance, and insanity and moody requiems and sometimes pleading. I sketched for a while, the new tall trees and the river and the grandfather rock, and when it came time to sketch myself, I couldn't finish. Instead, I drew a doorway."

No comments:

Post a Comment