[4] Images of an exiled past
What! What? Who? All right, yes then ... Paul did it too, once. I saw. Don’t let him tell you he didn’t. Every morning for seven years, he’s poured one finger of rhum into his morning tea (then made two or three warm-up drawings of me)…
[3] Through wooded landscapes, silent and invisible
We wake together in darkness. I light the woodstoves in kitchen and studio, and boil water for tea and warm Emma’s morning blanket. I step outside to watch the winter morning gather under the first sun and to smoke my morning pipe. When one…
[2] Hunt that beast through every city
Johnny’s world ... where has it started? I don’t know where they took him, only that they all left with him before I could hold him. I open the window a crack to let her soul out, then search the walls for mirrors. I see one screwed to the…
[1] Johnny’s Big Day
A world like this, all comforting miracles – people can change if we really try. The world spins to itself and flies around the sun – I believe that much, there’s faith. But I’ve noticed it tonight, and now I can’t drive the speed…