The Beginning - Poetry
One day, during the phone conversation, B explained that if she sounds odd it is all due to the fact that she is still not quite awake. “ My small recollection of who I am is linked to the fact that I am still waking up”.
One day, upon his return from India, as a present V gave a small stone and on it were carved words of Buddhist prayers. His advice was to put it in water. I chose to put it inside my pocket.
One day, while lying in bed in Vienna, a ghost in the making knocked on the bedroom door, inspecting the company I kept at the time.
One day, upon my return from London, I decided to become a Star.
The Middle - Project “ Red Carpet”
I just need red wool. Sentences I use to describe this project, I tell myself, as I am sure Z would recommend, need to be short and to the point.
It started three years ago when I was in need of a flying carpet. Where I wanted to be then is not where I wish to be now. If I was to fly I needed help. If I was to fly I needed to knit. If I was to fly I needed to make the process repetitive, the pattern simple and ‘boring’. If I was to fly I needed to ‘name’ what I was doing.
The red carpet, the longest diary possible, the life game, the procrastination, the loneliness, the desire to exist, the desire to make everything disappear, document of lost battles, pattern for unspoken and swallowed words, the place where I am a star already.
This all happens in my living room, one day after the other. Three years ago I had more time. I had more time to set up a small tripod, to take a photo, to make a small mise –en- scene. It even made me laugh that I had the time to knit something I in the end decided to call a Red Carpet. Sometimes it is just one long red thing that aims to reach 10 meters. Sometimes it is the most amazing thing I will ever do, the project that will finish the chase or be the start to all my projects to come, a start for a different tone in my voice, a small pin that holds my spine always in the upright position. Sometimes it is a small reminder of what the day, a week, a month, a year was like.
The Twist - Reality
The old lady plans to start painting two big lemons. She has already painted a steaming iron and a cup of hot coffee. I ask her to sketch the composition for me. One big lemon and one cut lemon placed on a small piece of cloth. The juice from the lemon is poring out and dripping. The aim is to make the viewer start producing saliva. She looks proud and eager to start the painting.
My time is now split between the times I run to one place and running away from that place. I have not bought the red wool over three months. Sometimes, I tell myself I will have the time to fix my dream.
The End - The Return
The end is just my return to the same spot and to the same wool. It is a quick return; just like the goodbye we gave one another. The lint on the wool I dust away and I start to knit. I decided to become a Star three years ago.