Friday, 13 April 2012
An Avant Garde Painting
All were dressed in white (in our culture it is white on this occasion). I was here as soon as I got the obituary. It was the funeral of my freinds foster father. All went over silently. With a heavy heart I reached home. Alone. I still can't get away the memory of the creepy grave silhouetted in the cemetary. The stones,the dust, the dried trees and the diminishing sunlight. I went into the kitchen and put some water to boil while I dined some mashed potatoes and lettuce. I was eating lazily. The light was dim in the room. Scary. I looked at the kettle on the burner, the flame of the burner looked black and spreading and reaching the graveyard. I took the kettle, poured the water and made some coffee. With the cup I went towards the window. It was quite dark outside. The coffee seemed more black. I felt fear. Nervous. I don't know but why I thought to jump out of the window. First I'll fall and then start flying in the sky like a fairy crossing all mundane boundaries, reaching infinity. Random thoughts kept coming my mind. I took a knife, pin and needle and went in the bathroom. I sat in front of the mirror, naked. Starting from the needle and reaching to the pin I started carving a grave on the back of my hand. Blood dripped. But I felt no pain, or I felt! Soon I engraved the whole scary cemetery and my hand became bloody. I tried hard to add detail and etched fear in it. Then with the knife I scibbled, scratched and painted the loathesome memory like a painting.