. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .. . . . . . . where ImagInatIon comes to play

Wednesday, 6 July 2011


Jola bared her walls, soiled frame corners for all the world to see. She rid herself at once of beauty and commitment. When the walls fell, Jola wanted to flee. She was free now. She could go anywhere. But she stayed. Still. Still, she stayed within the confines of the naked, greyed walls that sectioned her life into what could be understood: refrigerator, bed, music. But the art sat on the floor, waiting on the walls to disappear.And the days passed. And the weeks passed. And she stayed. She ate and slept and listened to music. She made love and angels in the snow. And eventually her walls were re-covered. She hoped for her own recovery but it was illusory. Freedom continued to be an intangible beast, speaking words without meaning, like 'Go!' and 'Be free and fly!'. Sometimes Jola went and sometimes she flew. Mostly though, she just stayed.


Anthony Duce said...

This is so good. So many just stay, or remember when old having stayed too long.

Marjolaine Hébert said...

..hmm. so true. and yet, K.K.'s words still resound, 'freedom's just another word for nothing left to lose.'