What never to say? Hang in there.
She thinks of Freud.
I think of Thek.
The end of life paintings.
A picture of the thin white duke on hands and knees in a tailored suit. Religion for people who fear hell, spirituality for people who’ve survived it. Straining to define it.
Do totems work?
Under a tin fleur-de-lis ceiling—royalty, purity and light. A birth right. A drop ceiling is a sordid ceiling, isn’t it? In church basements, in doctor and dentist offices ceilings undyingly drop. You can’t slacken under a dropping ceiling. You can’t sleep like a baby. Wild-eyed, keep me safe.
Do you believe in epigenetics?
Design a mobile to hang above a child’s crib.
Close eyes, decorate.
Text by
Marin Kosut