van Gogh spoke to me

Choosing what to edit. There's nothing that needs to be added to this moment. Red chinese lanterns shining over his black head. The waiter comes over and writes the chicken and rice, with tea. But the sounds of breaking shrimp chips and distant chattering lengthen the room my ear expands with every sound. And the fragment of the napkin. Why would you choose to change a moment? van Gogh would move in and out of the frame. Sometimes, colors move but my mind is trying to make them still. The frame tries to touch me, then retreat. Like the words fading into the gaps that make my mind. What is my mind but just the people and memories to fill it? I don't want to try and sound like what I'm not, but what I am, right now, at this moment. I am...

the painting that cries flowers, pink tulips growing in my ears, the windmill tattooed on her breast and green that pours. Does it bring you back to Earth, do you feel grounded? But who cares - living different movies. Inception and the space that occupies the nothing that this is. Laughter. And crying over a blue wall, wall of light shining on Viv... everything circles and melted into each other. van Gogh touched her skin, and I saw the same brushstrokes that painted life. His colors stroked me and swirled.

I wonder what the drug is doing to the crevices of my brain, or what I am doing to it.

Living, breathing art extended from his arms, his fingertips. Touching not our hearts, but our minds.

Comments

  1. I love the "Pink tulips growing in my ears"....I don't know how to describe it, but it's such a perfect way to describe the loudness of that kind of image, under that state of mind. So flawless!!!!

    I will cook for you :D

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