Another week has gone by. Time has become so unbelievable fluid ever since art has taken over my life. One plastic bag to the other, like cherries, and then a next one, suddenly 3000 bags each one rustling away, beating time away. Time, unjust, exactly like Dali' melting watches. Although maybe it feels more liquid, more like a running water tap, sprinting from one day to the other and abruptly splashing into the next week and gushing out into another season.
The police came the other morning. each time I open the door worried and wondering if I might be guilty of something. This time I thought: "oh shit, maybe these 3000 plastic bags taking over the flat are an illegal posession! Maybe I am running an illegal activity! Maybe the neighbours have been complaining about the ongoing loud rustling, or maybe they are concern about the all white matter that has been growing inside the flat and that is now pushing against the windows.
Thankfully it was none of all this paranoia nonsense. Instead and more importantly they are investigating on 2 loud bangs, last Monday, at 22.30. I could not remember hearing them, to me the 22.30 gun tows banged unnoticed and blended into all the rest of the happenings rhythm.
So what have I done this week? Art, I think! I am now at the finishing stages where all the bits and pieces have to be taken care of and of course the packing up. In between all these things I have been filming, quite a bit, and I am hoping to make time to edit the material and to show you soon.
Veronica has been complaining to me: apparently my bags have taken over all available room, even the little space she needs as a writer. On top of that she even had to put up with white plastic bags dreams!