Some things are meant to linger…. they linger on and on inside of us, as if that was their place all along, and maybe it is. Lingering on, these things never fade… they last endlessly, surviving against all odds, carrying on… persisting forever and ever. There is no denying it, there is no repressing it, and there certainly is no silencing it. It sneaks up when we least expect it, takes us completely by surprise, removes us from whatever our ordinary moment is that is developing, and makes us dwell in whatever it is that never fades. Is it bad? Is it good? Who knows… It is what it is… But I believe all things happen for a reason, and things would not linger if they didn’t have a very strong reason to do so. If we choose to listen or not, that is completely up to us. But let’s not lie about it… it will not go anywhere, anytime soon… It is there, carved in our hearts and imprinted in our souls; it is part of our cells and it defines our existence in more ways that we can understand… and so it lingers. It lingers on and on…. But the most beautiful thing about these things that linger is that secretly… we love it, and we wouldn’t have it any other way. These things define us, they make up our existence and orchestrate our being int his world… We might think they are incomplete stories or even foolish dreams, but no… they are so much more. They are a part of us, as much as our beating heart is. They are carved in corners of ourselves and imprinted in places of our souls… Saved as memories or understood as improbable futures. And so… they linger. Somewhere, inside of us, beyond our reasoning mind, we understand it all too well and we would never agree or desire for it to be any other way.
The picture above was taken in February in the Pompidou: Anselm Kiefer Exhibition.