9 July – 3 August 2022
It’s Sunday afternoon calm, old songs are on the radio and you think about life.
A vague uncertainty draws people outside to walk. How pleasant the gardens, how lucky we are. A slightly odd feeling of unease stirs, just behind the flowering blossoms, an antique sadness with no apparent cause, like a mild illness. The same malaise that makes one say; I haven’t got anything done today, its terrible. But its Sunday after all, we have time. Sleep beckons.
The parked cars remain in their places and disconsolate dogs bark, the sky is already filling with late afternoon darkness. Immobility sets in. I don’t want to see the day end, it must be television night.
In the border lands between one territory and the next, I have a strange dream of a beautiful melancholy.