Sometimes when I'm working, I get a phrase stuck in my head, and with the left piece the phrase has been "imaginary mother". It might end up being the title of the piece, or inspiring the title, but we'll see. I see these pieces as mother and daughter.
As my twenties roll on I start feeling the tightening of my reproductive organs, threatening to strangle me if I go another month without reproducing. It's making me think a lot about my life in big, long-term ways. My mind works like this: if you really like something about your life, it'll just be like that until you die. You may as well just fast-forward to the end.
That makes me antsy and makes me question everything.
The imaginary mother isn't comfortable with being done yet.
Interesting that she is a mother, it kind of looks like she's splitting like an amoeba.
ReplyDelete