Before she died many years ago, my grand-mother slowly lost her mind. She was getting hungry, too, although she had enough to eat. “Why don’t you eat?” asked her my mother. “Because there is nothing to eat” would answer my grandma. “But there are many slices of (dried) bread on the table” said my mom. “Are there?” asked my grandma. She couldn’t see the bread on the table. She would find the bread in the fridge, take a slice out, then put it on the table in order to get a knife and butter or something else. As long as the bread was in her hand, it was bread. As soon as it was on the table, she couldn’t see it anymore. “I cry and I laugh all at once, every time I see her” explained my mom.
The last time she spoke to me, my grand-mother mistakenly used one uncommon word in French instead of another. She wanted to tell me that my face looked good. Instead, she told me I had a nice butt.
[Picture: The Substance of the Mind by reading_is_dangerous]
The last time she spoke to me, my grand-mother mistakenly used one uncommon word in French instead of another. She wanted to tell me that my face looked good. Instead, she told me I had a nice butt.
::: ::: :::
[Picture: The Substance of the Mind by reading_is_dangerous]
Consider the following words:
Add words. Remove words. Mix words. Write a poem.
- Car, tracks, snow, parking lot
- Mind, thoughts, language, brain
- Moving/still, dark/light, water/metal, smooth/rough
Add words. Remove words. Mix words. Write a poem.
Posts
Deja Vu, you!
ReplyDeleteYou have to hold bread, to feel bread, to know that it is really bread? Maybe yes.
ReplyDeleteForgotten now most of what I wanted to say. Except the dream, I already typed it to you.
ReplyDeleteIce-Sand-Snow & Shiny.
Oh..something about 3. moving me.
Anonymous is great.
I think I will keep to it. ;)