Transform me.
Wednesday 14 November 2012
Saturday 3 November 2012
Traces in sleep
No, I still can't sleep.
Last weekend, I stayed with my other half. We drifted off, holding one another. I was probably snoring.
I wake often in the night when we're together, usually just for a moment and then I fall back to sleep.
One night, I was woken by the 'where am I?' feeling, which I haven't been familiar with for a long time. Even though the minor confusion was fleeting, it unnerved me in a way I'd not felt before.
For that brief second, I believed that I was in my own bed and, although I felt someone else's arms around me, I was actually disinclined to accept this as reality. Instantly, I felt an indescribable loss, as my mind concluded that, however vivid it seemed, I was in fact dreaming. There were no arms holding me; it was just a trace I felt as the imaginary evaporated.
I must have roused Ash because she sighed hazily and asked if I was alright. I explained my disorientated waking.
The reasoning of my tired mind, misleading my senses, pierced my unwitting emotions. To my surprise, a tear rolled down my cheek in the darkness. Then another; then another.
"For a moment, I thought you weren't really here...", I whispered.
Last weekend, I stayed with my other half. We drifted off, holding one another. I was probably snoring.
I wake often in the night when we're together, usually just for a moment and then I fall back to sleep.
One night, I was woken by the 'where am I?' feeling, which I haven't been familiar with for a long time. Even though the minor confusion was fleeting, it unnerved me in a way I'd not felt before.
For that brief second, I believed that I was in my own bed and, although I felt someone else's arms around me, I was actually disinclined to accept this as reality. Instantly, I felt an indescribable loss, as my mind concluded that, however vivid it seemed, I was in fact dreaming. There were no arms holding me; it was just a trace I felt as the imaginary evaporated.
I must have roused Ash because she sighed hazily and asked if I was alright. I explained my disorientated waking.
The reasoning of my tired mind, misleading my senses, pierced my unwitting emotions. To my surprise, a tear rolled down my cheek in the darkness. Then another; then another.
"For a moment, I thought you weren't really here...", I whispered.
Restless
For whatever reason, I can't sleep.
It's so funny how everything and nothing seems to pass through my mind while somewhere between that chasm of waking and sleeping. I am most certainly awake now. But my body is still arguing.
On Monday, I shall be in Berlin. I can't wait but I'd barely even considered that I should think about packing until yesterday. Right now, I can't think of information to share about our itinerary, but I shall write all about the five days and take an unwarranted amount of photographs.
In light of the fact that I'm sure Berlin will be an onslaught of information and experiencing new work, I've been reflecting on what I've seen recently that I actually retained as something special.
The image above was taken in the Saatchi Gallery at the Korean Eye exhibition - a selection of work I really enjoyed seeing. My beautiful friend Ellen stares at a literal storm in a tea-cup.
I've never quite understood the phrase but, amongst all the things we saw, this stood so humbly, yet I found it captivating.
A scene so tranquil (tea makes everything better, doesn't it?) holds a miniature catastrophe?
But anyway; it's too late for abstract thinking.
And I don't even have a philosophy class next week.
Thursday 1 November 2012
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