i walk every day along a shaded promenade, reading while i walk. im the girl with my nose stuffed into yellowing pages at any given opportunity. i ascent and descend dozens of sets of moving stairs, with a book open, walking and getting on and off the metro while reading have all been mastered.
now its is james joyce,
portrait of the artist as a young man.
i won't lie, for the first time in a very long time i've skimmed over dozens of pages in a book that im reading, sermons, god this and god that, repent, confess, damnation in hell. while crossing petnehazy utca i thought, all of this symbolism, all of these rituals and scriptures that i am so ready to skim over, i've grown completely bored by catholicism, christian symbols and how even admitted non-god believers still accept and or contribute to their meaning by day and by night.
// la virgin //
once i bought paperweight for one euro. a bargain. it is the shape of a pyramid, clear, and inside is a small disk with an image of the virgin mary on it, clad in a blue robe, hands held together at her heart. why would a buddhist buy such a thing.
i couldnt get over how banal an object it was, a plastic paperweight and that 'they' thought of putting a virgin mary inside of it, a daily reminder to say their prayers perhaps. pure ridiculous perhaps. i couldn't leave it behind. now it serves my desk as a daily reminder
// schiele has nothing to do with this //
