The background of my life, the backdrop I perform before, is discerned piecemeal. Or I might say that it is a drop cloth covered with paint. Or an empty bbq potato chip bag.
A stave of sheet music, filled in by my random notes and rhythms.
I need more of these white cotton shirts. Other shirts, I'm afraid try to say something.
Perhaps that is behind Ryman's white paintings - the holding back from saying anything, the reluctance to shed secrets of the soul with speech.
Hearing about the Mississippi Gulf Outlet (Mr Go) I imagined a fellow, a dapper nere do well. Because when the locals talk about it, they say Mr Go this and that - I didn't realize they were talking about a thing and not a person.
Pots and pans in Mama's kitchen seen from the street.