Diario, May 23, 2012

Day after I returned from the City, I feel of no belonging in this farm-shaped-like-a-city place. I no longer belong here; my mind is falling apart. I dreamt Baudelaire’s dream: He is in a carriage and is left with an obscene book in hand in a brothel that is at the same time a museum. There were prostitutes, sculptures, and paintings. The poet is walking around and meets a monster that has such a big penis that has it all around his body –the monster was crying his grieves and frustration to the poet. I was in a museum last Saturday and I had the greatest time ever with Reger’s suggestion on Credi’s painting. I think that it was the noxious effect of this place what made me dream Baudelaire’s. There is too much light in here! In the dream I was with a book that I don’t remember either it was good or not, just with a book sitting down in the middle of a banquet hall. People were dancing ridiculously –they were dancing and I was tapping to the beat of the music; I love that music and that was the worst part, I was compulsively determined to enter the dance, but I cannot get up –the book was too heavy.


A habit I have adopted lately: to look for a painting that depicts a given situation, or at least resembles it. Two of Albretch Dürer:

Melancholia I

Self-Portrait of Man of Sorrows