Went to bed last night feeling fat and stressed, and woke up this morning with a bizarre memory in my mind. Was anyone else fascinated as a child by the way light could shine through your hands and make them glow red? Like, if you covered the bulb of a flashlight with your hand, the light still shone red through your blood and skin.
That got me thinking about these rice bowls my mom used to have when I was a child. I don’t know exactly how they’re made, but I guess at some point during the process, grains of rice are embedded into the porcelain, and then I think the heat when it’s fired makes the rice disintegrate, and little translucent marks are left where the grains used to be. They were really beautiful and delicate; they looked almost as though they were made from lace, but when you touched them they were solid.
That’s what I want. I want to be delicate, fragile, ethereal. So gossamer-thin that even light for all its incorporeality can penetrate me. But all I see staring back from the mirror are acres and acres of flesh.
I'm tired and discouraged and I feel like a monster.
2 comments:
i used to be fascinated by the exact same thing! actually i think i still am :-) and i reallt know what you mean by wanting to be so ethereal that light can penetrate you, too.
xxx
That's so beautiful!
I love speculating about all the possible deep-down psychological reasons we are the way we are.
Anyhow.
I dig it.
xo Hana
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