Batakliev's Bloc

Can you breathe it (through your funky mouth covering)? Can you smell it? Can you taste it? Can you feel it (crawling underneath your skin)? The BCN night street vibe. It’s in the smile of a shadow. In the sigh of relief, the nod of camaraderie, the resonance of distant guitars and all the muffled echoes and laugher you permit yourself to hear. It’s right here, tonight.

Taking apart furniture in order to destroy it is a strange concept. Especially furniture that has been custom made for you, to fit your space and meet your needs. Like this wardrobe. One by my one, the planks surrender and collapse as the screws wiggle out of their holes betraying the construct that holds all parts together.   These same planks used to be the shelves on which my clothes rested - the clothes I’d grab swiftly in the morning before going to work or p ick carefully in the evening ahead of an exciting date. And here I am - unmaking, freeing space, letting go in a home that will be “mine” for four more days. The new owner will reclaim this territory and make it their own. Soon another wardrobe will grace this space. Its dimensions, colour, facade, posture, gaze and spirit will be different but they will feel just right...to the new owner.

Let's go to New York City tonight. Let's have sushi in the Meatpacking District. The tunes will be dreamy. The girls will be wearing halter tops and big, big sunglasses. The boys will be hatted. And handsome. The music will be spreading itself thin across the rooftops. There will be magnetism and chemistry and tears and break-ups and every...thing in-between. Just imagine.

Is it an iris or a peacock feather? Or the iris of a peacock feather? Is the concoction of memories, aspirations, traumas and biases that enables my vision connected? Are my volumes of life experience by my side to guide and mentor me or in the way to obstruct me from discovering the world uninhibitedly? Let’s see beyond the tunnel vision.