“I felt a tremendous distance between myself and everything real.”

It does seem I have been away for a while. Perhaps it wasn’t just being away from here, maybe it was a general absence – the absence within. Sometimes it may be hard to catch the moment when (maybe not-so-sartrean) nothingness wraps around you and makes its way inside you – through your nostrils, mouth and ears; through every scrape on your skin; through every bruise.

It’s hard because you very fast forget what was supposed to be there – exactly at this spot – where there is now only nothing[1].

I am back. I have been painting today.

[1] “Nothing” can be very fulfilling.


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