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don’t be angry, says the wind, they are afraid

published: 2011-10-31

The woman he was born from speaks without waiting for a cue.
I can’t tell you how amazing the trip was and special and all these wonderful people we met like this one lady who was sick but maybe not really sick and anyway we took her to the hospital there but they didn’t find anything and so we drove her to Paris where she took a plane out, which she now regrets. And Paris is of course lovely and Marseille, well really

– he works in Marseille sometimes, he is a painter en he adores the vibrant edges that city has –

I mean Marseille in no way compares to Avignon, not at all. Avignon is, well Avignon is special. And then of course because I fell ill the first few days we stayed in one place for a while and I saw the most beautiful thing I have ever seen, it was as if the sun was rising on the wrong side of the world. You should paint that, you really should, you might actually sell something
– maybe you should paint it if it inspires you so much? –
So anyway and anyway and this and that and all sorts of things including famous artists she met and who told her all about how art is these days and she could therefore inform him that…
– I know all about art, I myself can tell you all about how art is these days if you like? –
And so on.

He tries hard to listen and to think only positive thoughts. But the painting bit, he can’t help himself. It makes him angry.

Meanwhile, inside, he truly doubts whether the past few weeks of his life were even worth asking after? Maybe simply the fact that he had a lovely weekend could be interesting? And how he saw the most beautiful opera he had ever seen? The opera was about a mother and her daughters. Mother, you really should see it. Speaking of daughters, I did see my own daughter this weekend and we had so much fun. She understands why her mother and I have separated. Her mother and I had a few drinks, we laughed the way we used to laugh. And neither mother nor daughter mind that I am going away for the weekend with my new girlfriend. In fact, my ex-wife helped me book the ticket. And maybe he could explain that he realizes now how unhappy he has been. And isn’t his own mother happy that he is happy?
Instead, he asks whether his mother could take care of is daughter this weekend.
– Oh, so you’re going away then, and not alone I presume? –

No, not alone, mother.
She nods her head in rejection and then turns away. How could you, says her body-language. I detest you.

– I’m going to catch some fresh air, he says. –

And he sits on the sand overlooking the sea for a while, studying the birds and the waves and feeling the chill. He imagines a mother that would come out and sit next to him. Or his father maybe. He would like that.

They don’t.
And maybe he could take them to Marseille one day and he could show them the studio where he paints?

– Don’t be angry, says the wind. They are afraid.

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