And you know what? I get to the ripe old age of 27, manage to graduate school and university, spend months abroad without money, I'm capable of paying rent, holding down jobs, organising dates, burying friends, I got married, had a child........ and I don't know what date it is. Andrei is coming home tomorrow, not Friday. I honest to God thought Friday was the 18th. *taps skull* the light is on but nobody is home.
I've enjoyed thinking about art every day, even though I cheated twice and did double-bills on two occasions because I am more of a crammer than a regular worker.
I'll end my 12 days of contemporary art on the eleventh day with a send off of assorted things I love and want to share, before running away in a panicked frenzy to tidy up for husband's arrival back home.
My tyosha (mother-in-law) always urged Andrei to make his art beautiful. He argued that art needs to wake people up. I think real beauty astounds, delights and rouses the soul from despondence and half-heartedness.
bu-bye for now. I may add a 12th day just because I like religiously symbolic numbers...
image 1: Invisible Cities| Italo Calvino | (this city is named Anastasia, like my sister)
image 2: Communist jokes that only people of that weird borscht eating kind get.
image 3: It's not cool, but I like Stalinist architecture. Stalin himself was a pizdetz. I also like photographs.
image 4: Absent-mindedly doodling stupid things.
image 5: Oscar Wilde fairy tales. An excellent read for those suffering from phenomenon known as baby-brain (that leads you to forget what date it is).