On me dit que le temps qui glisse est un salaud
Que de nos chagrins il s’en fait des manteaux
They tell me that time slipping by is a bastard
That of our problems he makes coats
It was a year of great successes, despite a backdrop of despondency. What I am most proud of aren’t the end results, but the processes.The means through which I navigated the stress and frustrations that pushed me further upwards, birthing passion and humility.
The books I read and also the humanists and artists I admire, inspired a more passionate and holistic lifestyle. From Van Gogh, I have learnt to see truth in my eyes and imagination. From Anne Frank I learnt to be strong always. Reading E.E Cummings’ erotic poems, was a sublime worship of the body I inhabit…I don’t know that any man living or dead could have written such lovely dark and deep an homage to a woman’s body. Patti Smith’s Just Kids, let me know that I’m not crazy, I’m just waiting for the world to acknowledge my art. And as for my achy heart…I am still learning.
I did one thing very wrong last year. I wore my sadness so easily and clung to it so fiercely. And when sadness had run its course, I struggled to let it depart. That, I shall un-learn somehow.
(Picture taken on NYE , watching the sunset over Venice Beach)