Monday, April 5, 2010
What's on your bedside table? We're all the most vulnerable at night in our beds, and undefended until we wake, are we most ourselves then? Does what we chose to see last each night, and first each morning, mean much more than the rest of our things? You know, I'm not completely sure. But I know I chose them carefully.
The wax child's head came from a church in Brazil, a milagro offering asking for a cure. I love how she ended up with me, like an unformed wish waiting to become real. The Frozen Charlottes were a gift from my very dear friend Joyce, she knew how much I always loved them and sent them to me one day. Charlotte went off to a winter dance and wouldn't wear her coat, it would have covered up her beautiful dress. She froze solid in the carriage, her vanity turning her white as ice. The shells are both bought and found, I love how they look like skeleton fragments from some strange unclassified animals. The crystal was on my father's desk-it was the only thing I wanted just after he died. The journal is from my Mom, but right now it's too beautiful to fill with cross-outs and complaints and reality.
Do you keep books, diaries, found things? Flowers, photographs, watches, rings, water, water rings?