The exhibits were shit, puke and urine and on top of the body are written: ‘it’s my body.’
The crumpled cloths lay like a Pharaoh’s head. Cuneiform letters were dirty mud marks on the toilet floor. I sat on the toilet seat like and felt like a primitive anthropomorph. I guzzled. Plop! Plop! I came victoriously! Zeus made a sound of gentle thunder. I cleansed myself. The sound of water passing into me, a wet drizzle tickled my veins and made me excited. I am all clean now! I light a cigarette and put on my clothes. I drink cups of coffee. The ash tray with crumpled buds lay like a piece of frozen sculpture. I thought of reading Robbet Grillet’s Erasers an avant garde novel, but then felt too lazy. I look at the thermometer hanging on a ship. The dial showed reading of 35 degrees Celsius. I looked at the crumpled envelope with all markings, unfinished plots, half sequences, bits of poetry, my signature, all of them forming a literature of bits and fragments. The ceiling fan was groaning like an old man choking for breath. I think of Borges the writer who says ‘I am not sure who I am: I am all the women whom I have loved, all the places where I have journeyed, all what I have read’ I feel inspired! I touch the Piano key and listen to the ‘ting’ sound. I whisper DO RE ME FA SO LA TE DO, the western and SA RI GA MA PATHA NI SA, the eastern. I see a Raven perched on the window frame. I think like a mystic of receiving messages from far. The door bell rings. I rush to the door. A voice cackles like a witch: ‘please give me something’. I put some coins into her hands. I see my dead father in the photo frame. I become overcome with sadness. I light another cigarette and send out smoke rings creating an art gallery. I look at all the unread books lying on the shelf and feel guilty. The art gallery comes to an end with a siesta in the afternoon.