A hole to be filled
Come, Tell me how you lived
Ants and Crickets
Like a twisted sock
Some things, so close, they can’t be seen
The Hidden and The Eye
Nachmittag in Dordrecht
How to not be seen
Mrs. Verbeke, why do you lay down horizontally?
Mrs. de With, why do you lay down horizontally?
Mrs. Jackson, why do you lay down horizontally?
One of those days at a tuincafe in the afternoon sun. Lunch is on its way, my company talk about their daily activities and the dogs wag past us led by the leash. Things are in order, yet I feel uneasy. I am seen, observed if not stared at. But there is no eye-contact as I look around. Heads are turned downard, targeting food or phones. That is when I find my observer - on the vacant table right next to me: a one-eyed tabasco bottle, staring at me with the look of a lost traveller, light house or totem pole.
Objects around me are personas, read through their shape and form it is I that make out their being and character. But the placement and milieu is of equal importance as it states a hierarchy and acts as a stage for the character. It is something the object can never break free from just as the given role ceases to exist once the actor leaves the stage. However, the actor remains, as does the tabasco bottle on its table - a story is played out.
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