untitled [shrouded]

thursday, 27/9/2001

Breathing becomes something like an obsession. Mimicking the dead, a grotesque habit. But I am afraid, and that is how I can fight my fears. This is the only way I know for the time being, or the only way I can think of. Would you blame me for this? I doubt it. You are not my mother who will mock me for being afraid, in her own attempt to help me, you are only – I don’t really know. You, I suppose. The ghost in the shadowed corner. An invisible friend. A visible friend; my lover?

You are the fiend.

I close my eyes, drift to an uneasy slumber. There is a road, I think. It is coming towards me and flows underneath my feet, but I have no sense of motion. It is the road that is moving, not I. When it stops, I see a shrouded figure at a distance before me. I have this vague impression that it is either me, or my grandfather. I feel a shudder course through my body as this creature passes through me, replacing me, and I wake up, unable to move or speak.

A somewhat older piece, related to even older events.
[detail]

Acrylics (powder paint mixed with acrylic glue) on canvas; 2003.

Included in Raster, Chapter #33.

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