suddenly in a wood cabin, (such as dreams transport me to places, patch-worked from memories which i am not always certain are my own). a large tub of chocolate ice cream on the table attracts the attention of three dogs, there were four of them but the one gave up and left the room barking. i followed it into the woods, first it was a small ball of brown fur flitting through the trees; as i got closer it grew bigger and bigger until i eventually got close enough to see that it had turned into a full grown bear; i turned back.
brussels or was it venice; my feet remained cold, a still-born sunrise in the indiscernible grey of the landscape outside. the work of jan fabre illuminates the darker corners of my heart; futility, anger and fear. i am disgusted by the fruitless argument that doesn’t stop the sun from setting.
i return to the cabin, it’s already dark. the dogs had left after they’d eaten all the ice cream, perhaps i had a bit of a fever; i felt itchy and warm and it seemed as if the walls were moving, when i closed my eyes i couldn’t tell if i was standing or sleeping. i wondered where the dogs had gone and thought it was their scratching i heard. i picked up the tub of ice cream and grabbed a spoon from the sink, scooped out the last melted little bit; it wasn’t chocolate after all, instead it was a thick dark soup of beetles.
