Jenny Holzer and I

I found her on a bench in Venice.

This one, I think.

Jenny Holzer. I smell you on my skin. I say the word. I say your name. I cover you. I shelter you. I run from you. I sleep beside you. I smell you on my clothes. I keep your clothes.

 I touched the marble and read these words twice. And I knew somebody, somewhere, had thought about my vital situation in that right moment and had carved every letter. I WAS the particular person ALL THAT was written for.

I was anyone.

I’ve been trying… trying to cut the umbilical cord between my words and myself since that. Writing on college desks, on blackboard corners. No signature, just naked words that echo inside anonymous heads.

I’ve been trying, with very little success. I’m not an artist… maybe I AM a writer, after all.

I love her work, anyway. I just wanted to say it.

Jenny Holzer: this waiting it's taking forever. any second now. No, not yet. Yes, now.

One Comment

¡Los comentarios son bienvenidos!