I was going back from lunch when I saw this owl screaming as if trying to chant the absurdity of everything. It was desperation. Pure despair. There was a man cutting the grass with a machine, and I soon realized he probably had destroyed her eggs. I came back to my classes and tried to pay attention, but I ended up sobbing as soon as I got home. A week later a butterfly entered my room at night. She looked like an autumn leaf. A beautiful, small, majestic autumn leaf. As melancholic as november evenings. I thought to myself “She’s so special, I’m so happy she’s here with me”. But then I slept. When I woke up she was dead. I had left the bottle of coconut oil open. She fell in the cover but soak her wings nonetheless. Probably fought until she couldn’t anymore. I cried my heart out. But then I had to move on, I had to move on in five minutes or I would get late.
Sometimes I forget the fragility of things. Everything is so absurdingly fragile. And the world is so hungry and it keeps devouring and devouring and devouring. I cannot even process my own emotions, cause my emotional process is being devoured by schedules and rules. Because of this I cherish so much my alone time painting and writing. The world devours all the little, fragile things, and one day it will devour me too. And then maybe I’ll finally be free. As free as I am when I write or paint. Like a beautiful, small, majestic, autumn leaf.05/12/2022
