i found an old poem...

ich moechte meine sehnsucht
in deine augen fliegen lassen
will zusehn wie sie
in deinen himmeln vergeht

meinen arm neben dir
mit dir gehen,
weit und nah
in einem atem aus licht

mein herz sagt ja
mein kopf meint nein

ich fahre durch waende
aus wolken und schwarz
dunkel und scheissegal
ich fahre ohne haende

mein hirn ist was es isst

No help- work in progress

I'm not too happy. And life is a pain in the butt. Cannot paint. Need more dreams...good night.

Work in progress...trying to paint with oil

Beginning a story

"Mme. went down in the cellar, and she brought fruits, onions, potatoes and the damp smell of secrets. Mme. climbed the stairs very often. Sometimes she appeared to stay down there for hours and even days. She searched for her voice in the deep recesses of the caves, she met spirits, people,angels, dreams and stories. But she searched for herself in the silence there deep down in the dark guts of the earth. Sometimes we heard a murmur upstairs , this was when she tried to sing through the darkness, many steps down next to the well. She must have heard so many echoes reverberating from the walls, but it helped her even more to concentrate, to breathe, to feel herself, to sense the awareness growing, her hidden self. We didn't really know her , but she always brought a gift up with her, a vision, something beautiful, candles and matches and shards of hidden riches, and we smiled and cuddled up to her. Wo she was? We didn't now, we don't now. But we remember the warmth and the radiance. " Dr.F.
I will continue this story when asked...or when I really want to.