May 4 to May 11
Depuis un an et demi je lis le carnet intime de ma mère. Elle s’en est allée il y a maintenant presque quatre ans et a écrit dans son testament qu’elle me laissait ses carnets qu’elle avait écrits entre juin 1939 et 1947, je ne les avais jamais vus avant. Il m’a fallu du temps pour les lire, 17 cahiers différents, petits et plus grands, épais, fins, jaunis…
On y trouve des fleurs, des lettres, des voyages, j’y vois des fenêtres passées par les fenêtres du train, des fragments de vie bien connus et lointains.
It was a warm, sunny day – perfect for climbing trees, having a picnic and marching. We did climb trees, and statues, and sat swinging our legs next to Winston Churchill’s sturdy torso; there was lots of singing and dancing, and we watched while some of us planted seeds in Parliament Square. Apparently there was a very good crop of hemp later that summer.
the world slowed to the pin needle drop I wanted. 5am wake up call from the baby rose the dawn, the birds and nothing more but a view out the window of bodies turning in the beds, breathing, not rising. the air over the city oxygenised, greened. everyone claimed new found time and freedom, mine dwindled in contrast.
something inside opened – love.
POSTCARDS TO GLASGOW (II) : LOOKING OUT
My friends situate me in space. I like to know where they are and what they are doing — what preoccupies them. I like to have at least one ongoing email conversation with a friend each day as I work, preferably three. I picture my friends as I describe to them what is in me and around me, and they help me to complete the picture.
This week the postcards arrived as drawings, and a painting, views from a specific space and time.