Esther Blom

Once again, I stand before the emptiness, at the edge of what feels like nothing. But something is always there, and it is with something that nothing and everything begins. I trust that. I trust in something that can be felt but not seen.

It’s not always about what is
shown. It’s about how it got here from the very beginning and where it’s leading me. There’s the ongoing mystery I want to immerse myself in. Swim long and far without knowing what I’m swimming in.

I sneeze. Suddenly, I see something.

A black line sweeps by and leads me away. I see a city, a night sky of stars, a road sign, a man, scribbles, lines, lines, lines, colors, scribbles, scribbles. A crossword puzzle rises bigger and larger. I begin to spell. I can speak! I draw arrows wherever I want and sing in Greek, telling a joke no one understands. It’s not your pizza. I draw a line too far but I accept it, no one understands, not even me. Things slow down, it’s quiet again, and something unwise has been spoken. A fascinating anticlimax. I’m dying. But that line, that was drawn too far, I can’t live without it. That night sky no longer provokes me. I’ve created an inside joke, which we now add to the record while waiting for something wiser to be uttered.

But.

A good someone, you’ve moved me to fierce tears.
You were the one who drew the line too far, the line I cannot live without.

Image: Esther Blom

Image: Esther Blom

Image: Esther Blom