Military portraits with oil pastel on small paper, 20157 To live is to fear.

To live is to fear

I’m going to learn to sleep sitting down at stations, wake up when someone approaches, touches, breathes, looks towards me. Sleep in a flight, work in the night under a newspaper. I will not be afraid. I will be a document of strength, of survival. Sleeping and waking up, walking and looking, sleeping under a tree, passersby gaze, maybe fear. Becoming the environment, giving up my comfortable bed, my isolated room, safety, quiet space for only me. Exposing myself to danger, disorder and death, but also harmony, beauty and life. There is a lot to live for, lot to see and experience, but is that to be experienced?

How to express

Fear to express, when do you become afraid to express? What there is to express? When do we know, what should be expressed?

A bruise in a shape of Africa.
Those who do not understand, they may say it out loud and look at you. Things that can’t be told her, are not told her. They are kept from her, totally weird and not at all, but totally something. Silent and distant, untouchable gap, it is a shame, it is a religion.

Men who talk to women as if they were dogs, like dogs, like dogs talk, that they were dogs. What is there to talk to a dog other than they just look as if you know the answer. You don’t want to talk to women like they were equals, because you don’t want an answer. You can’t handle the answer.