Summer is officially over

An inflatable mattress folded nicely on the sidewalk under a street post state that summer is officially over. Sand grains, salt and laughter sounds hide beneath the colorful plastic to tell a story.

The sun is shifting, days are shorter, my working space behind the kitchen gets dark and chilly, another chapter is ending, but not my journey. I promise to keep working, even if it gets very cold, even when it rains, even if the wind blows at my work strongly. I’ll do what I have to do, I tell myself, and once again I find an eco to my soul in one of Mary Oliver’s poems:

me - close up

click to enlarge

The Journey
One day you finally knew
what you had to do, and began,
though the voices around you
kept shouting
their bad advice–
though the whole house
began to tremble
and you felt the old tug
at your ankles.
“Mend my life!”
each voice cried.
But you didn’t stop.
You knew what you had to do,
though the wind pried
with its stiff fingers
at the very foundations,
though their melancholy
was terrible.
It was already late
enough, and a wild night,
and the road full of fallen
branches and stones.
But little by little,
as you left their voices behind,
the stars began to burn
through the sheets of clouds,
and there was a new voice
which you slowly
recognized as your own,
that kept you company
as you strode deeper and deeper
into the world,
determined to do
the only thing you could do–
determined to save
the only life you could save.

(top image) Inflatable, 25*19 cm, Gouache on paper, (post image) Me, torn fabric on A5 cardboard.
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