Wednesday, February 17, 2010

If you’re looking for Infinity, Just Close your Eyes

The darkness was pure, perfect, thoughtless, visionless; that darkness was without end, without borders; that darkness was the infinite we each carry with us. (Yes, if you’re looking for infinity, just close your eyes!) – Milan Kundera

The walls are leaking
The sky is seeping
Lying up-side-down in my bed
But I’m not sleeping.

Unsure of what I see
How conscious can I bee?
If the eye of the storm
Is staring straight back at me.

Lightning cracks in sync
With each illuminating blink
The night sky allures me
With a suggestive wink.

Slowly I see the eye fade into grey
Keeping my curious mind at bay
Awake until the break of day
Waiting for the tempest to come back and play.
'Sometimes I've believed as many as six impossible things before breakfast'

It’s not every day that you are greeted with a friendly ‘Welcome to Wonderland’ upon entering a brick-a-brac store. Nevertheless, this introduction set the tone for a day filled with phantasmagorical discoveries. If only we had known that there was going to be a giant dome tent in the middle of that field! Unvarnished nonsense is never too hard to find in a rational world. You just have to know where to look. In the words of Alice herself, ‘If I had a world of my own, everything would be nonsense. Nothing would be what it is, because everything would be what it isn't. And contrary wise, what is, it wouldn't be. And what it wouldn't be, it would. You see?’

Thursday, February 11, 2010

photos by Freya

At 11pm last night we stopped procrastinating and painted our bathroom. Approaching the task with reckless abandon, everything between us and the walls was at the mercy of our paint brushes. Moving to the drum of Lilly's i-phone beat we lacquered the walls in a color which Bunnings has aptly deemed 'Ice Mist.' The experience took us through a spectrum of mood swings which rocked from extreme playfulness to extreme madness to extreme frustration and then finally into a frenzy of extreme body art. By the end of our creative endeavor the paint fumes had stripped our skin bare and there was nothing left of us but a pile of bones floating peacefully inside a bubble bath.