Oliver and I went downtown today to catch the Urs Fischer exhibit before it left. I'm not an art critic, know nothing of Urs Fischer, am not interested in art criticism but am either moved by something, entertained or stimulated. I was moved by the exhibit, entertained and stimulated.
I'll save the photo of the bed, collapsing from a pile of cement on it for later, as that inspired me.
That is so cool! Lola loves those kind of things, so I'll have to look for it in our neck of the woods if it hasn't already been here.ReplyDelete
CULTURE! And fun, too.ReplyDelete
The rain drops keep falling on your head could be the theme piece of art for Atlanta this summer. It's rained just about everyday.ReplyDelete
thank you. loved the proverb and the photos. xoReplyDelete
this is so very cool, would love to see itReplyDelete
cool ... I want to see that bedReplyDelete
I am a recent widow. My daughter is 23. For 22 years I had a partner in this. Last night was a bad night and I got scared.ReplyDelete
Who do I turn to at 2AM now? This is a poem my husband wrote not so long ago.
Others because their daughters are not
Epileptic never monitor them in the tub
But always when our Evie’s in her bath
Or swims alone away from us
Suddenly I see your face
And you or I remind the other
To look in on our special child
Who could, we both know well but never say
Convulse and drown.
And so it was not long ago
You called to me from downstairs
To check our daughter in the tub,
As you or I had done
So many times before.
I ran upstairs. And there she lay
Face down, floating motionless,
Her soapy hair about her head.
And I did think of Ophelia.
And in an instant was taken back
Eighteen years, to see myself
Standing in the doctor’s office
When she told us that Evie would never
Be able to care for herself.
And I asked what “take care” was,
The room having filled with water, and made
A place where words were only sounds.
Later that day I would hold you in my arms
And as we cried you said,
“Evie will never find someone for herself.”
And then she jumped up in the tub—
A screaming Venus but more dear,
“Fooled you, Daddy,” she declared with glee.
And I said, “Yes you did. You frightened me,”
Pretending then to share in your delight
And in the hall I cried alone that night.
OTHERS because you did not keep
That deep-sworn vow have been friends of mine;
Yet always when I look death in the face,
When I clamber to the heights of sleep,
Or when I grow excited with wine,
Suddenly I meet your face.
Thank you, Anonymous, for your comment, for your heartbreaking words, for your late husband's poetry. There are so many of us, alone. If you ever want to email, please do. Mine is elsophieATgmailDOTcomDelete