looks at me while I’m writing
my hair drenched in its light
slightly bouncing
and as I move my hand across the page
with decisiveness
a pigeon screams: “LIES!”
before it flies off
Every once in a while, someone comes up to me and asks me: why blankets? Why beds? Why lamps? There are a few possibilities as to why these are the objects I often return to. One of them is my childhood story about ‘Mummelbed’. When I was younger, I used to carry around this big blanket, almost everywhere I went. A white, one-person blanket where you sleep under. I loved the smell, the softness. It was so comforting. And warm. I used to press my nose against it and it would immediately calm me down. But wherever I would go with it, there was always someone who asked if I was going to a sleepover. I would be slightly irritated and answer: NO! This is Mummelbed!
(Mummelen means: talking softly or inaudible).