Tuesday, 19 February 2008


In the afternoon, I packed my bag. I folded tiny white baby clothes and bigger girl's jeans and then added my own black T-shirts, pyjamas, socks and woollen tights. I was preparing for the shape of things to come. Minds slipping forward in time, imagining the future and how we will sit in that world. When I was younger I used to carry little china ornaments in my bag, an old photo, a soft scarf. To make myself at home. When I arrive in a hotel room, friend's or family's home I settle myself into the environment, the totality of surrounding conditions. I enter the sphere.


Marjojo said...

Thanks for your beautiful message, you too have a way with words. Bathing in words – can’t get much better, yes, but some scrape and mark one’s skin, their snagged edges infecting and polluting. Saddened by this post, unsure if you're leaving bigtime or preparing for a visit somewhere. Whatever it is, hope you and your babies will be o.k. And then I find your ‘circumstantial yellow’ and the heart does a little dance.

lasuza said...

Dear Marjojo,
Thank-you for your kind message. Interesting thought about words marking the skin - I like that! I was actually packing to go on holiday with my partner and kids! A happy journey to see family. This blog is creative writing, the starting point everyday living, ordinary moments. However, whilst often the texts are melancholy, painful it's not all my life. Perhaps that's unclear. Where does one start and the other begin? Managing suffering is one of the reoccuring themes in my work. Strange the image that one projects of personal identity through our art.
I keep wanting to write to you about Louise Bourgeois. I will do a post when I am back from my travels. Good luck with your course. I shall be off dancing in circumstantial yellow.