t. its june 26th and its been a while since i sat down to write a bunch of post it notes to you at the national gallery. escaping the heat that would disappear for a week or so, but kind of unnoticeably has come back during the last days. i have to admit i say days and weeks without having any idea of what i mean by it, my sense of time shut off almost immediately as my vacation started.
maybe even before that:
with the first heat or
with my waking up at 6 am
for a couple of months
until i lost the sens of night vs morning, which may have expanded until it concerned days of weeks, days of life. also being in love also makes you see everything differently - the constant flux between recognizing a feeling and following along with it and at the same time never knowing up and down
and the difference between the two at any time.
i guess that is one of the main seasons it has taken me some time to pick the letter back up again, knowing whether its a new chapter or whether it can remain one paragraph
if i wait a little longer.
it is hard to write about what is not clear, it is hard to decide anything upon it - feel because you feel so much in all sorts of directions and still are not able to figure which feeling to trust, since the feeling of uncertainty is always considered in between
or on the side
as it is not easy.
i was to write not easy to categorize but i guess thats two sides of the same thing.
ive been thinking of my own, uncategorized emotions as something yet not born, that needs to and eventually will evolve into something
different
and im probably right about that.
but im also thinking that whats yet not born at least
exists as a conscious concept, and
sometimes thats enough.
what is uncategorized is either not ideal or it is liberating because the categories themselves are not ideal
