susys running away to sea

"The rigors (sic) of an expeditionary lifestyle"

Saturday, December 15, 2007


The man in the bronze suit gave me a painting yesterday. Bubble wrapped, and not allowed to look until today. It's part of a project - 7 paintings inspired by 7 strangers - and he's got exhibition rights. I opened it today, and it's currently sitting on top of my fake fire - bright blues and pinks, and impressions of roses round the portal to the inset painting. On the back is a hook for hanging it up - at right angles to the word 'top'. So, which way is up? I shall rotate it.

He had told me a story yesterday. He was called in to his neighbours' house - the wife had found her husband staring into space, sitting rigid in his chair, his hands suspended as if resting on a table. Calling the ambulance service, he was instructed to lay the man down, to make sure his airway was clear, but as the man was immoveably stiff, he had to be tipped back, complete with his chair, and couldn't be persuaded to assume a more relaxed posture. Terribly sad, of course - I had to hold my lips to stop laughing too much, tears streaking mascara down my cheeks ...

I must attract dead people stories.


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