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Description
Week 15 of my 52 self-portraits in a year.

Many thanks to my amazing housemate, Kristina, for being my live-in hair dresser and helping me with the eyelashes.

Make-up, styling and paper crane making is me.

Totally chuffed with this one.

I wrote about eight pages of script for my new show today. Very happy. It is a one woman show. At the moment.

Have a bit.

Linny: Annalise quoted Shakespeare to me today in her hesitant English, flushed with excitement and pride in a nation she had not been proud of in years.

'Linny,' she said and 'Linny' again, voice cracking with joy. 'Listen: 'Now is the Winter of our discontent.' Aren't those beautiful words? Discontent. Unzufrieden. It means people aren't satisfied and won't be until something changes.'

She was in bed at the time, pink toes just poking out from under the doona, nose a little squashed from pressing it to the window pane. I turned my own eyes to the glass and saw a city blurred by the visual echos of fingers, lips, noses and cheeks.

Fog.

Fog and ice outside.

Men and women moved through the gray brown and got on with living.

Glass is a beautiful being. Made from sand. Sand which feels coarse and heavy can be transformed through heat and made into this smooth, translucent surface. Elegant. Delicate. Everywhere.

'I am in love, Linny.'

'What?' I say, mind still on the miracles of molten sand.

'I am in love with this city. With Berlin. I can feel it moving. It is so full of squirming, writhing, discontented people that it is fit to burst and I want to be here when it happens. I want to see it burst. I want to see it come crashing down. I love this city and all its thrashing, hating inmates. I love.'

I love.

Berlinmuren. I see you through the mist. Just. Obscured by Annalise's curly hair and sticky fingers and political words which mean nothing. Tall and beautiful and loving me. I feel your soul, Berlinmuren. I hear you louder than I hear the girl little more than a meter from me. I hear you and love you and want you.

Any of you know much about objectum-sexuality? That's what the new script is about. At the moment I'm focusing on the woman who married the Berlin Wall.

Description
Week 15 of my 52 self-portraits in a year.

Many thanks to my amazing housemate, Kristina, for being my live-in hair dresser and helping me with the eyelashes.

Make-up, styling and paper crane making is me.

Totally chuffed with this one.

I wrote about eight pages of script for my new show today. Very happy. It is a one woman show. At the moment.

Have a bit.

Linny: Annalise quoted Shakespeare to me today in her hesitant English, flushed with excitement and pride in a nation she had not been proud of in years.

'Linny,' she said and 'Linny' again, voice cracking with joy. 'Listen: 'Now is the Winter of our discontent.' Aren't those beautiful words? Discontent. Unzufrieden. It means people aren't satisfied and won't be until something changes.'

She was in bed at the time, pink toes just poking out from under the doona, nose a little squashed from pressing it to the window pane. I turned my own eyes to the glass and saw a city blurred by the visual echos of fingers, lips, noses and cheeks.

Fog.

Fog and ice outside.

Men and women moved through the gray brown and got on with living.

Glass is a beautiful being. Made from sand. Sand which feels coarse and heavy can be transformed through heat and made into this smooth, translucent surface. Elegant. Delicate. Everywhere.

'I am in love, Linny.'

'What?' I say, mind still on the miracles of molten sand.

'I am in love with this city. With Berlin. I can feel it moving. It is so full of squirming, writhing, discontented people that it is fit to burst and I want to be here when it happens. I want to see it burst. I want to see it come crashing down. I love this city and all its thrashing, hating inmates. I love.'

I love.

Berlinmuren. I see you through the mist. Just. Obscured by Annalise's curly hair and sticky fingers and political words which mean nothing. Tall and beautiful and loving me. I feel your soul, Berlinmuren. I hear you louder than I hear the girl little more than a meter from me. I hear you and love you and want you.

Any of you know much about objectum-sexuality? That's what the new script is about. At the moment I'm focusing on the woman who married the Berlin Wall.