in conversation with myself

If I cannot say no, my yes means nothing.

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He did not give me the impression that he wanted to say anything.

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When stripped to our bare bones, people will be able to see through us. While all we can hear is the wind howling through us. (The sculpture is by Andre Stead, titled "Grounded"; 1975. Exhibited at the waterfront in Hermanus.)

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Trios are fine, as long as you are not the one in the middle.

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Some canvasses are made of stone, weathered, and stored away. But space and time are artists in their own right and surprise us with unexpected improvisations.

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It took me a long time to understand that all these portraits were a conversation with myself. Suddenly I saw myself writing about things that had occupied my mind without my formal consent.

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A dear friend reminded me that I have to keep learning how to lean into the uncertain. Accepting it, is one thing. Leaning into it, is a whole new venture. But one afternoon, as I was leaning into the wind, a dove paused in my hand.

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They kept nagging me: “What comes first? Changing the heart or changing the system?” They tried to trap me. Meanwhile even Marx dreamed of a new humanity.

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