Trafika Europe 11 - Swiss Delights

Terminus

the closet: if I brought them to her, there was a chance I could win her back. And I went. Back then, she knew how to strum my romantic strings. And so I thought of a new message; all the symbolism of the white handkerchief, when you think about it… A truce? A respite from which war? No major arguments lately… It can’t be because of that visit to her mother, can it? A need for purity? Not a bid for abstinence! No, no, no! On the contrary, it’s a gauntlet for me to take up! It’s like this: the nonchalant handkerchief drops in slow motion in the wake of the beauty and her legs, which call out, eat us up! An invitation to rediscovery, to exploration. I definitely prefer this theory and besides, I was just enjoying the thought that it seemed more like her. I picked up the handkerchief: below it, more small flashes of white. Some card stock, printed, folded, torn; a puzzle I put together in less than a minute. It was an old invitation—some art opening or other—stained with ink, crossed out: filled with densely written, opaque signs; resistant handwriting, not hers. I’m also starting to write something I’m leaving to look at nature and so that painting will leave me in peace Drawing remains drawing and I’ll add color over the coming days. I’m chasing my drawings to get to painting Colors remain colors

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