I am not sure if this is satire or a little melancholia. I wrote this to detail my feelings as I discard certain “things” from my home in my desire to lighten the load, and not have so much “stuff.” I was thinking about art in all of its forms. Art that requires physical space and art that occupies mental space. I LOVE art I can touch, but I also love art I can read and hear. This was an effort to console me.
Give me art.
I must discard the canvas gently stroked with your brush.
The swirls and the colors shaped beautifully by your gift.
The fiber and the texture I can feel with my touch.