I open my eyes. rainbows sparkling across the bedroom wall; a ray of sunlight streams through the crystal hanging in the window. I try to remember if I cried in my dream. have a feeling I did, my vision is still blurry.

you learn to love the pain you feel (1)

from the things that become talismans and constellate the spaces where we build a small universe – I’m not quite sure how this one ended up in my hands, perhaps a gift.

I remember finding the garbage cd among my sister’s record collection, the pink feathers on the cover and above them a black imprint: garbage. the immediate attraction intensifies with the sensation that only music can provoke. does love at first sight exist?

perhaps it’s a fascination with ambivalence, what is sweet and bitter, like the edge of a sharp blade against a satin surface, or the nostalgia of an event as rare as intimate.

amulets aren’t always objects; sometimes they involve other senses, like sounds, scents, memories. different times blend together, creating another dimension. among discoveries, desires, and delusions dwell angels and ghosts.

on the stage where stories intersect, scenes are imagined. I close the curtains and lie down with horses galloping on the ceiling, reflected by the flame of the candle you left here. I count them one by one, mesmerized until I fall asleep.

— Ana Grebler

(1) queer (1995) – garbage