Cartoon stains
She dips her limbs in the black ink
and leaves traces on the white surface.
Together with the ink, a few dead cells also leave.
The cartoon watches the ink spread, and there is
a very characteristic moment that this, in other words this material begins to have demands, wants to spread out in space to escape the constraints of the rectangle
and become one with the cartoon.
The cartoon is always aware of exactly when that moment is.
And it takes a step back. she puts the quill down.
She wishes to remain in her own space, with its two dimensions, familiar, without surprises.
The world of three dimensions vaguely repulses her.
When the lights dim, she glances in secret wonder,
again and again, at the black, spreading ink.
Tomorrow she knows that she'll see great misunderstanding in the eyes of others.
They will ascribe the black blotches to her as no-one suspects that she herself is merely a creation
in a moment of inspiration.
The cartoon remains only when the creator leaves his workshop.
And he always, always makes the same mistake.
He scratches around his tools and dips her limbs in inks, then rests them on the scattered sheets.
She dips her limbs in the black ink
and leaves traces on the white surface.
Together with the ink, a few dead cells also leave.
The cartoon watches the ink spread, and there is
a very characteristic moment that this, in other words this material begins to have demands, wants to spread out in space to escape the constraints of the rectangle
and become one with the cartoon.
The cartoon is always aware of exactly when that moment is.
And it takes a step back. she puts the quill down.
She wishes to remain in her own space, with its two dimensions, familiar, without surprises.
The world of three dimensions vaguely repulses her.
When the lights dim, she glances in secret wonder,
again and again, at the black, spreading ink.
Tomorrow she knows that she'll see great misunderstanding in the eyes of others.
They will ascribe the black blotches to her as no-one suspects that she herself is merely a creation
in a moment of inspiration.
The cartoon remains only when the creator leaves his workshop.
And he always, always makes the same mistake.
He scratches around his tools and dips her limbs in inks, then rests them on the scattered sheets.