Fear

We visited an art exposition. Wondered around pieces of things; everything looked ugly to me. It's the problem I have with contemporary art; it's like you need to know the story, the meaning, the composition, before you can appreciate. Beauty is not immediate any more. I shouldn't complain. Myself I am immersed in a music that makes me alone. But I like it for it is immediate, and touches those strings I am not in charge of.

We left the exposition, and visited the Eindhoven's skating theather. All kids, jumping and revolting around, swimming in waterless pools, balancing their boards on their dreams. I can't skate properly. As I skate I am afraid to fall; fears blocks me. It's raining. While walking, I cover myself with my jacket: I could get wet. Fear. My mom does not dare to speak about my father's disease. Fear. And before I start playing, while counting the rhythm of the music that will be, my finger blocks in fear. I hesitate. Fear. And I look at you. I could hurt you. Fear. I could make you feel guilty. Better look somewhere else, better keep quiet. I better keep those words for myself. I raise my arm, and my coat with it. I'll walk dry today.