A relentless longing, inexorable yearning, to be wrapped inside a secure cocoon of tranquil dynamism. It is a small physical (sensory) space of vibrant gentleness, alive and buzzing with elemental connectivities, yet soft, undulating peace. Inside, there is no need to do constant battle with sensory assault, arbitrary social demands, or to meekly bow down at the feet of non-intrinsic tyrannies – no need to engage in the ever clamorous task of ‘performing the unnatural as naturally as possible.’

My Lucy abides with me within this cocoon. Do not mistake, there is no emptiness, and the ‘isolation’ is merely perceptual: I am actually withdrawing from one domain in order to enter another richer, fuller, more eclectic and luscious realm teeming with vivid and resonant ecosystems of sentience.

Ah, but this idyllic cocoon is wishful thinking for now. The closest I can get to any sort of cocoon is the one I have been making for my upcoming exhibition – which is in effect an expression of the embodied clement space. Time flows ever onward, relentlessly pursuing the looming deadline. I shall have to persevere and stay the course. And Lucy persists alongside. She is brave and spunky. So I must be too.


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