Sunday, October 30
Life goes on.

Friday, October 28
When you see numbers in The Gambia it's a matter of phonenumbers handwritten on houses that can be wiped away quickly and replaced by new ones. In contrast numbers in Switzerland dominantly flash down on you from large LEDs displaying time, date and temperature like they would tell you this is the only solution of perceiving the world.

Wednesday, October 26
Everything smells of cheese, it's wintertime.

Thursday, October 20
Last night I dreamt of you
While you were in Gambia, my admin boss convinced me to divorce you to marry a young African Rasta who was supposed to get the Swiss residence permit afterwards. No problem, I did how he told me, but suddenly I realised that you probably couldn't come back. I was very desperate. Indeed, when I tried to cancel the whole story my admin boss straight facedly replied that the divorce had already been processed. I was finished, how could I've done that. Maybe I would never see you again. But eventually, with a strong will, I forced myself to wake up and prove it to be just a stupid nightmare. I tell you, I was maximum relieved.

Monday, October 17
I've been to cinema and watched La Piel que habito directed by Pedro Almodóvar Caballero. SPECIAL

Sunday, October 16
I am busy. I cannot call. You know, for me it's different. I have to look for my family. You must look for yourself. And soon I will come. Then we can talk.

Saturday, October 15
Inertia. Do I owe somebody something, or why this searing pain. Maybe because of all those hopelessly entangled lies that are floating my body. They ache for being freed by truth, but reparations are too long overdue. No happy end for today, sorry.

Wednesday, October 12
Fortunately, our second container has been cleared today. Good news.

Tuesday, October 11
I like Aminatta Forna. I ordered her newest book The Memory of Love.
Actually I should find my own words, but when I read her book I immediately stumble. Therefore I find her words.
...People are wrong when they talk about love at first sight. It is neither love nor lust. No. As she walks away from you, what you feel is loss. A premonition of loss.
...He seemed to be gone forever. And all the time I waited what could I do but sit and listen to my heart keeping time with my impatience... staring into space...like a living dead...

Last night I woke up at four and stayed sleepless till dawn thinking about losing square meters when I am leaving my studio in November. At that particular studio I started my African drawings eight years ago. But the place turned out to be too costy and I have sold almost nothing since beginning. More and more it became a must to go there. And at home I remained restless. As a matter of fact, in July, I came to make my final decision. Actually, I was very much forward with my idea and everybody I told about was with me. Changes occur. When something ceases something new will start.
So now that I have less space I'll have to continue differently. Africa will keep my affection. Could be more on a gathering modality to have a balanced start.

Sunday, October 2
I continue reading Ancestors Stones.
Dreams. Asana 1941, Bitter Kola:
... Do you see how I was becoming like all those other women - Osman's mother, his sisters, my co wives, Balia and Ngadie? All I wanted to do was to avoid the pain of humiliation. Oh, how quickly that simple wish transformed into a desperation to please, so quickly I did not even see it happening in myself. My senses were numbed, I behaved like a sleepwalker. The days passed steadily, weeks turned into months. By that time I was treating Osman like a God.
...Our mothers told us to cover ourselves when we came back from bathing. In case a man should see us...Cover yourself, there's a man coming. A woman's modesty and a man's desire were what made us different from each other. Yet I knew I felt desire, even lying there next to the man I no longer loved.
That first night Osman rejected me I was wretched. Later I wept bitterly. Osman was ashamed though he would not show it. The second night I slipped out of my gown and lay naked beside him, stroking him gently. But Osman covered his own shortcomings by blaming me, I was too forward he said. No modesty. On the third and final night, when it happened again he pointed his finger at me and called me a witch. The next night Osman spent with Mabinty, the new one, his forth wife.

Back to contemporary life: Yesterday I went to cinema to watch Vol Special, a documentary about an Ausschaffungsgefängnis (I couldn't find an English translation) in Lausanne. There are 28 of them in Switzerland to keep people in custody and prepare them for their journey back to their so-called origin country. Even people who have been living here for more than 15 years, who work and pay taxes are jailed just because the Swiss people decided to deport them. What kind of country I am living in where the population lives in abundance and spends their money to built a special kind of prison just to tell the world: we are inhospitable and don't want people here we haven't asked to come. Imagine, people from all over the world claim to live in Switzerland. But the Swiss just close the door and say their country is too good for them. What a smugness.
For more information: http://www.volspecial.ch

Nevertheless, entering the cinema hall I met friends and after the film they invited me for dinner, which was delicious. Just to mention that there are also positive moments in my life.