Wednesday, July 31
Since Sunday I've been staying and participating a dance workshop near Lago d'Orta in Italy.

Wednesday, July 24
Funeral. Devotional ceremony. Respect for the dead.

Tuesday, July 23
TV-night: SHREK the third and Banlieu 13 - Ultimatum

Monday, July 22
>Live the life you love, love the life you live<

Sunday, July 21
Wonderful weather. Museum again. Finishing Wildflower.
"Join the mob or go for what you want. Give yourself plenty of quiet time alone in order to get in touch with who you are...Focus power of thought. Remind yourself that the world is yours for the asking. The non-risker does not grow, you just get older. When you have decided which ideas, beliefs, relationships, and situations no longer work for you, it is time to release them." from Joan Root's diary.
During break watching videos again.
Blind Sex (1983) 5 min
48 Hours in 8 minutes (1978) 8 min
My Love (1977) 5 min

Saturday, July 20
Wonderful weather. Museum. Few visitors. Reading Wildflower by Mark Seal. (Yvonne's birthday gift: German translation, paperback edition 2013 - Ich gab mein Herz für Afrika)
During break bying dress (this time very cheap - 5 CHF, so I don't have to worry) and sandals. Still Sale.
After work sitting at the Rhein board with Angela.
In the night watching thriller: Derailed.
Trying to sleep. Cannot sleep.
Watching BBC Rendevous with Zeinab Badawi:
She talks to three cultural icons who are all involved in schemes for the betterment of Africa: Ghanaian-Briton pioneering fashion designer Ozwald Boateng, Senegalese-American R'n'B and hip-hop superstar Akon and African-American musician and actor Yasiin Bey, formerly known as Mos Def. Why is Africa a cultural super power and can the stars of the African diaspora make a difference to the lives of people in the continent of their roots?
Afterwards sleep gently.

Friday, July 19
I am jealous. Again. Try to avoid that feeling, but it arises just out of nothing. Like, I cannot get pregnant and give him child. She can do. I have to accept that.

Thursday, July 18
Sale - yesterday. My friend Yvonne and I went shopping in Basel. We were looking for a dress for her friend's wedding party, and some small things. Clothes were still expensive and in the beginning she wasn't too much in mood. So I made a start and tried one colourful summer dress (Yvonne judged it as looking like an apron) which made me feel gentle. Most of the time I am wearing jeans, and to see me in a dress like that let me be someone. She liked it too, but in her prosaic manner she tried to make me think about it. However, I - like mad - decided to buy it despite its high costs. Nobody ever, in that moment, could have dissuaded me from spending too much money. Though, afterwards, as a matter of fact, when leaving the shop and recovering my senses (no way back, because sale goods cannot be changed) I was worried having bought something I didn't actually need. Fortunately, then, we found a sweet dark blue party dress for my friend. And somewhere, deep inside, I had that cosy feeling having bought something nice for me too.

Wednesday, July 17
9th April, 1954
She said to me today as I was leaving: "And now my dear, when are you starting to write again?" I might have said, of course, that all this time I've been scribbling off and on in the notebooks, but that is not what she meant. I said: "Very likely never." She made an impatient, almost irritable gesture; she looked vexed, like a housewife whose plans have gone wrong - the gesture was genuine, not one of the smiles, or nods, or shakes of the head, or impatient clicks of the tongue that she uses to conduct a session. "Why can't you understand that," I said, really wanting to make her understand, "that I can't pick up a newspaper without what's in it seeming so overwhelmingly terrible that nothing I could write would seem to have any point at all?" "Then you shouldn't read the newspapers." I laughed. After a while she smiled with me.
Doris Lessing, The Golden Notebook

Monday, July 15
She also would like to enjoy nature in Birsfelden, but he doesn't want her outside home. What a destiny. Nobody ever wishes to change with her, everybody just pities her. What a life.

Sunday, July 14
In the evening I've been watching Ray (2004). Hit The Road Jack - yea, he went to nowhere to meet her where nobody will know. You see how he cried when Margie died.

Today, again, in my break I've been watching a video of Michael Auder: Untitled (I Was Looking Back To See If you Were Looking Back At Me To See Me Looking Back At You) A night video, where he was looking into the opposite houses in a merely aesthetic manner. I liked a lot watching this placidly made video.

Saturday, July 13
At twenty two I wanted to write my autobiography. I remember telling my intention to a guy who was a passionate saxophone player and who had introduced me to the music of John Coltrane. He just replied dryly without turning a hair - DO IT. Of course I didn't. Moreover, how could I even reckon already having leaded such an incommensurable life to write in a category of looking back only? Some kind of a jaunty bird had nestled in my head and made me talk like a posh lady.

Tuesday, July 9
Yea, it's like that... 100 % freedom and liberty.
Do not worry what the other is doing or how he feels.
Just do your things, and I do mine.
Police starts searching only after 24 hours...
I have to go to work.
It's like that.

Sunday, July 7
i had he cave man talk
was it a grant, a groan a rumble
not knowing we stumble
into the heart of life -
my mother said those were the blues
telling on the impending woes
when you live what you sing
and sing what you dream
then you know why why there are incisions in our heart

history bleeds my baby
poetry heals my baby
as you learn the cave man's song
our pain is steady and long
like the stories writ in stone
and their eyes tell of the wind from the east
the scenes of subjugation
the indifference of time
my mother said these are the blues
explaining the struggle
of us lost in the labyrinth and an awakening
in the hand of the devil...

a fragment , from the mad mans diary.
(poem posted by Thokozani Mthiyane on facebook)