These are my husband's keys. One of them is the key to our flat, the rest are keys to mysterious places. It makes me feel proud he has so many keys that give him access to whatever it is. There is something happy about keys, I think, the right to go into different places. That's why some people get given the key of a town, because, somehow, they've reached the heart of that town. Of course, it is easier to reach the heart of a small town than that of a big one. Does London have a key? And what is its heart? Smaller places seem to have much longer traditions, to be flowing through generations. I miss that sometimes, that sense of eternity that you cannot have so readily in a big city. I'd like to learn to have both, the big and the small, the legacy and the present daily reality, in harmony. A while ago, I was flying from Genoa to London, and in my imagination I was sewing all the clouds together into one big fluffy carpet. One day that harmony will be achieved. So far, its craving is the biggest motivator for my art.
No comments:
Post a Comment