Belly

by Christos Polydorou

On your cone, a scoop of ice cream is a scoop of ice cream; drop it on the floor, and it is spilled milk; there is no use crying over it. The place of that scoop of ice cream is your belly, but sometimes things end up where they are not supposed to be, and they change meaning. For example, obsession. In love, it can be catastrophic; in the arts, it could actually be beneficial; that is to say, an austere, almost monastic approach to making art. Besides, art is a serious thing, wouldn’t you agree? It is one of the bigger themes. So I would not bring my bubble gum self, to this game. I would just try to change the rules, to reflect what I have been showed, what to me has been revealed. What visions? If I talk about them, I would not make sense; on a page, they evoke heavens charismatic. Put things in their wrong place, and everything goes wrong; however, put things where they belong, and everything will be all right. Not just with you. But with the universe. You say you are arranging mundane objects? My dear, kiss my cheek.

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