The Artist – A New Story

Throw yourself in the deep, take the leap and don’t look back. That is how it starts and that is how it ends. And if you really do not like it in the middle, please do not fret, just you start again.

She woke up at peace. She was feeling happy for the first time in years. Possibly the happiest she had ever been. She could not remember why. Life just was. She had woken up far too early this beautiful April morning, and started walking around the house wondering what had gone in to her when a deep sorrow got hold of her chest; it hurt so much she had to sit down. She wanted to give it a name but it wouldn’t identify itself. Never mind me, it said, it is you that you should be worried about. After a couple of meaningless hours in bed staring at the ceiling she fell asleep and had one of those dreams you swear actually happened. In the dream she was on a tree covered hill and a voice was calling her. She was wearing a white nightdress walking around the trees, up and down the hill in a slow almost hypnotic pace carrying two heavy old suitcases, one in each hand. She didn’t know where her light, almost hovering body was heading nor the faintest idea where she was, though the place felt somehow familiar. Maybe she recognised it from a book or a film? She could see a white house by the foot of the hill. Close to it was another house, this one she recognised straight away, that was her neighbours’ house. It was not until later that she realised that the white house was hers. At this stage she was unsure of everything and feeling dizzy, light-headed and somewhat nutty, nothing made sense at least not in the usual way. Why was she walking around with these bags? She started panicking. I don’t even know if they belong to me, she thought, I can’t just walk around with them. But she couldn’t put them down; the mere thought gave her the shivers and overwhelming sense of sadness. After all, this was all she had. They were extremely heavy, and she wondered what she could possibly have in there. Then that voice again. Calling her, and laughing. And more laughing and now there were lots more voices laughing. She decided to follow them. She started feeling paranoid, thinking that someone had placed her there. It was hard to walk and the bags were impossible to put down. Finally she collapsed and announced out loud: No more, I have no strength left, whoever thinks this is funny come and explain it to me, because I don’t like this joke! Not one bit. And she cried and cried until the stream of tears caressed her with an answer. Open the bags it said to her. She opened them and found both of them completely empty, nothing in there. But as she opened them a funny thing happened, she remembered everything.

It was suddenly clear to her that down there at the bottom of the hill was her home, that white house was her home, well it had been, because she now knew that it didn’t belong to her anymore, she had left all her possessions in there and ran away in a state of panic one day. She had left all things and struck by fear packed her memories, thoughts and beliefs in the old suitcases. All that stuff, what she thought about herself, the world, her family, her world all that stuff was in there. She had been right, they were the only things she had left, and they made her who she was. How could she possibly let go of them however heavy they were? Now that she remembered she started asking herself questions. Why had she done this? Did these voices make her do it? Where was she going? Why had she forgotten? There were many more, and as for the answers they were surreal, unexpected and so much fun. Though unexpected was also the glowing April sun, beaming so hard on her face that it forced her to her normal state. All was now back to normal and she couldn’t answer her questions anymore. There was not much to do and she convinced herself that she had made up the most bizarre set of events, which were rather stupid, I mean where would it lead anyway, and what the hell was she doing on top of the hill in a nightdress? She was the dreamy type, but this was too much. She went back to the house and forgot the whole incident.

And this is where our story begins. Because it kind of starts at the end. You see our character was so happy that day that when she awakes by some distant whispers one night a few days later she goes straight to the wardrobe, takes the two old suitcases, and walks down to the beach. She stands by the dark blue water and knows she is to leave them there. The water speaks to the bags. She has nothing to do with them anymore, she stands there feeling sad. She says farewell, gives her thanks because after all they seemed so real, she also excuses herself as she has been rather upset with it all and it has played its part very well, it sort of cared for her you could say. It took her all the way here. In the distance the stars blink in wondrous colors telling her of times ahead. It’s a powerful thing the sound of water. She feels the old bags’ sensations. As they spend year in and year out in the water, feeling the waves, feeling the power, feeling the currents changing with time, hundreds, thousands, millions, billions, trillions of existences of time, and her bags change, they become one with the water, they join the sea of change. She is done. Now silence. All is different, she knows and she doesn’t. She feels, feels, feels and feels, she laughs, laughs, laughs, laughs, laughs, laughs, laughs, laughs and laughs. She is the mystery, she is the joy.

So my love, what now? She is still by the beach, silence rules, and then she sparkles, or something sparkles. Exhilaration and she is for eons of time. At one point she prepares the tools for her next journey, she carefully choose her colors and textures, her tools and brushes. What will be? What is? Here we go… Deep inside, far beyond, way above, deep below what is her wish?

All that remains is her, her highest goal. Fire. Earth. Air. Water. She does want them again. But different. She is excited and understands what to do. To the drawing board. And she invents a new story. How far to take this? As far as you like. How far can she go? As far as you like.

How does she get there? However she likes. She is here. You are here.

There is nothing, nothing

So she waits And waits

And waits And waits

Waits Wait Wait

And wonders

what if this is it

There is all

And she is

So she is

She is

Is Is Is

The (No) End

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