Bright Colours

Painting for Michelle Abbey

From the right...

Amadou and Miriam

Black and Blue.....

For Noa

You know the other day when i left, For some reasons my mind continued to make many metaphors. I saw a carousel, its bright red and multicoloured horses, golden manes and funny names. It was the last ride of the evening. The funny lady announced ' here it goes even tho we shouldn't be doing this one!" I found it really funny. Her tone about such a beautiful creature as the carrousel. I watched it all go round and round, slowly at first I chased it like chasing the spinning sun. I chased it slowly, not wanting to catch up with it but feeling its motion blur and slide and spin. Then it got faster and i got a little bit embarrassed that me a grown man, a little sweaty with my silly grey hat and furry beard squiggles was chasing this giant toy saurus in the park.... I felt peoples eyes, i felt my own self-consciousness. But somehow i cared and i didn't care. The spinning colours of light made me nervous and calmed me to. It was like a journey of life, all of these happy and confusing and sad and decades, if you measure in years of 10 or 9.....All of this made me contemplate life how full and empty and happy and sad i felt vibe through my knees to my toes and ears and eyes...And all my emotional problems took to subside.But you know then. The carousel began to slow my heart began to slow but still with excitement. The kids came of with their parents some too quickly to notice that they where going. But there was this one little russian girl,maybe 3, her mouth began to scream faster than her eyes and she was gentley not wanting to let got of the fun she just had the world of the horses and the music distorted like little toy box. She didn't want to leave the gate, the tall one that was two and three heads above her. Then she stared up. and stared to gently wine and point, but never let a tear come out of her eyes, just that open mouth. Her parents tried to talk her out of it and slowly she leaned away. waddled off to find the next toy's to sit and sway on, it was bright and orange toy car, green parts. I saw the carousel, I watched it. The keepers. I saw the carrousel I watched it. The Keepers. They slowly began to put these darkened baige plastic covers to shield them from the rain, to me this was like they where dying, gentle lying bodies of these horses that had given so much joy their whole lives, We die and we are covered in clothes, to shame us from the fact the we breathed and played and danced to music? i hate the idea of a coffin a cover, what is there to hide, is not the deterioration of a persons flesh part of nature too, like leaf is allowed to rot we are not, we must be covered for shame. The horses where all covered, but their butts where showing, colourful, their names on some of them...it was funny, they gave the illusion that you could jump back on...that they would be alive again. The male keeper undressed, changed. I remember the female keeper she was wearing all black or mostly her diamonds on her hair where plastic or maybe not but black too, she smoked a fag...she let it sink in to her. The third keeper came. a short man like furry pigeon, lossing the string of hair on his scalp. They spoke, exchanged their words and they began to wonder in the direction and flow of people, to Queensway, to the land of humans, not aware of the magic they had just put to sleep.......walking away in to the crowd light. I wandered around again, saw the insides of it like skeleton ten, green and white turn tops, green and white colours so simple and patient in all the wild screaming gold cold and red of the carousel lights. But still so bright, I had child's eyes, I felt you opened me to it, asking me describe how I felt before, you had opened it for me in our conversation...how carefully you listened and asked me questions. Life passed in to death and like starring in to the sun I felt my calm wash and wash, an excited calm....I thought of the cirucs. life is going to be ok. It is happiness I felt.

Green wood

Red Savannah

Pascal...

Londoni-Tbilisi-Oni

Listen

It is bullshit to assume anthything about any one,

How about we ask, not make dreams and suppositions.

How about we listen not make claims and fantasies

The dying ember is a flame to no one who holds it too close.

And the mystery of the man who runs is useless unless you know where he is going.

How about we listen

How about I listen sometimes.

'Lissian Jungle Flower' A painting for Olly

Toast

-freedom and spiritual lasting. Is it lusting at all, love thrown around. By the man who cares for money love is 15 minutes on the phone, because he creates this connection. He is a slave to money. Whether we wear suits and count stars or torn shoes with nike scars,toe stickin out, What is the value of cunting stars if you do not get to see even just a glimpse of one. In and out through the train lines like in and out of a mother.Those of us who state facts lie through our teeth. Honesty is fraudulent cause. We love.

Toast

I saw a man he was sitting on an advertisement . What is the value of people or love. Pre-occupation, a force of habit or love? West bound services blank. A conversation cost? Behind a barrier-of love to be motivated not felt-is only calculated by moeny. This is bullshit and so is superstition. So what happened to love, that was not romance not the shit you see in fucking t.v glamour and the dieseased mind of modern canals that wave colours and weave through the brain. Only defined intimatley written with pure honest unhonesty.What is spirit and-