Nomadic

A Journey Round my Room (1794/2020)

One day is so similar to another day
It's about time and the staggered space

Can't hear the growth of plants’ roots
And the yellow wallpaper is still breathing
Paper butterflies are holding still in the air

Today being inside this room There is no wind, there is no rain
The Room is Evaporating

I often lose direction in the same place;
eventually, I try to recognise buildings, plants, trash cans and posters around me.

They look different during the day and the night.
Not far from the house,
a wisp of white smoke ascended from a chimney.

Until much later, after moving to another country,
I again met the same thread of white smoke.
Maybe I didn’t walk so far.
In the Middle of Nowhere

In a night lost between mountains,
I received instructions to reach the destination by crossing a river with three stones.

I arrived at the river following the sounds of the water. The stones were not there.
Maybe it is the way into the white forest.
It has been long since I left home.
A wanderer far from familiar places,
I was in cities, in forests, under the sky, among the rivers...

and slowly, I stood in the middle of nowhere...
About Ears, About Birds

When ears become butterflies, they fly.
They lift a person up.

In Catalonia, people say:
Papallonna