Sunday, with fragments of dreamtime drifting by

In Drafts, Food, Hautvoir, Local projects, Sundays on April 10, 2016 at 8:21 am

Sleeping in – a relative concept. I did my version of it this morning. Lingered half-way between awake and dreaming, most of the time with a character I left walking through a wooded area by riverside yesterday. He’s been a main character in a number of novels I’ve written these last few years. I know where he’s going and have vague ideas of what he  might find there. Vagueness disappears once the words start piling up on the screen.

Sometimes, vagueness is as good as a holiday or time spent in someone’s warm embrace (the warm embrace was part of dreamtime, I was in no rush to leave it behind).


The large plant with chrome yellow flowers conquering all, right up to my doorstep? Brassica napus, aka rapeseed in the West, aka yau choy in China. On the way home with the dog, I just gathered a good bunch of the stems with closed or half-opened flowerets for a stir-fry.


The local someone who’s officially responsible for the Youth Aid programs had the gall to question the existence of refugees in town (“refugees? There are no refugees here”). He got nervous at the news local citizens were holding a meeting on the topic next Saturday. We must talk, he said to the person preparing the flyers. Talk? What for, the person answered. I’m the one you shoved off over the phone when I came looking for help for a young man you shoved out on the street.

Given outside pressures, I need not fear that an occasional sleep-in or foraging session will evolve into endless sloth. Although, who knows – maybe one of the characters could do it for me?  Be the laziest bum ever put on earth? Wallow in blessed, guilt-free laziness as a lifestyle – achieve permanent slothdom as the pinnacle of his/her goals?

But it’s been done already. By Gontcharov – his character, good old Oblomov, spends days lazing on the couch in his dressing gown.

Oy. The thought appeals, something fierce.


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