1893 c/o John Boursnell

Bream, cod, haddock and hake.

If you are having difficulty, imagine that all your thinking, all your emotion, is dissolving. Imagine there is a steady stream of warm sunshine flowing into the head, down through the body, as if…
We’re just going to watch the sunshine, as it begins to fill the body,
the toes
the knees.
Begin to let go of those thoughts, begin to dissolve, begin to feel more spacious.
Up through the stomach,
the chest
the shoulders.
Watching as the sunshine travels down the arms,
into the hands
into the fingers.

Sophie Calle on a Wednesday; Flounder, potatoes, fromage blanc, rice, milk.

There is a double line of stitching running along the edge of my jacket. The stitching is grey, like the material. There are three buttons. Three buttons is fashionable this year. Usually I spit at fashion. But this was the only jacket in grey. I have twelve. They hang in my apartment, like silent brothers. They dance around me at night. I look at them from at every angle, just like I look at fountains, churches, quadrilles, sarabandes. My days are measured on staves, in the weight of the clusters of notes, the lightness of the spaces between them. When I am walking at night I carry a hammer. This town is full of scoundrels, and I must be prepared.

Imagine throwing out one of your possessions today. Imagine that tomorrow, you throw out two. The day after, throw out three things. After thirty days, you will have got rid of four hundred and sixty five items. How do you feel? What is the deepest silence you can imagine?

I saw strange creatures dancing in between the lines on the page.
The poor piano, it doesn’t know.