Stream of Consciousness IV

Scribbling, scrawling, all the notions, write them down, all the ideas spilling, ink flowing, scribblicious, gestural, animation, intelligence, time spent feministing. I step forward and make it up as I go along because there is no time to waste planning, planning assumes forgone conclusions that may never be, merely projections, meaning nothing once imagined, just do, do, just do what needs doing, get it done, just do it….

…because there are good things, the sweet things, all the bright and brilliant things, things that demand a name, a huge feeling not contained, things from another realm not known here so what do we call them? they have a language we can’t speak until we have walked the world, and I kiss the mantle of the art I miss, that like a slinky shadow withdraws, draws me after it, not so dark that I can’t see but dark enough to be mystery, and I love the comfort of the women who surround and commune and just know what you mean without explaining, the beautiful women, the hugs-like-an-ocean women, the neon-haired women, the eyelashed women, the red-lipped soft-hearted divas of understanding and evenings like a warm intelligence and wine and time spent feministing…

Untitled, N. Nazir, digital photograph, 2019

© N Nazir, 2019