1. “Daydreaming_004”. Ink on recycled cardboard 295x355mm 2. “Krutenau”. charcoal drawing on recycled cardboard 295x355mm France. 2018
seen from Türkiye
seen from Japan
seen from France
seen from China

seen from Singapore

seen from Mexico
seen from Türkiye
seen from Singapore
seen from Belarus
seen from France

seen from Türkiye

seen from Japan
seen from South Africa

seen from Australia
seen from Taiwan
seen from Australia
seen from Australia

seen from Australia

seen from Türkiye
seen from Mexico
1. “Daydreaming_004”. Ink on recycled cardboard 295x355mm 2. “Krutenau”. charcoal drawing on recycled cardboard 295x355mm France. 2018
“Daydreaming_003”. Acrylic painting on paper 495x640mm France. 2018
“Sleeping Paul”, pencil drawing Chisinau. 2016
“Sleeping Jaro”. Acrylic painting on paper. 28x26cm Chisinau. 2015
Lay down
The floor beneath us offers some relief from the heat; the wind from the fan comes and goes in an endless cycle, soothing as it passes over us. We lay on the floor snoozing, our eyes closed, moving as little as necessary, touching only enough to know that we are still there with each other. My back aches from the floor and my arms go numb if I don’t move them from time to time. From where I lay I can see the cat, sleeping by the door, the fluff of his body fleeting as the wind touches him. He startles awake every few minutes as the curtain in front of the door grazes his ear; he randomly reaches forward with his paws, flickers his whiskers and sticks out his tongue, catching birds in his dreams.
Outside I can hear the chickens, roosters, birds and various other creatures calling to each other, "it's time to eat! This is my tree! Leave me alone!". That's what I imagine them saying. But in this place no one is ever really alone, a salamander will scurry on the ceiling while you sleep, scorpions will hide under your bed seeking the cold, and your love will lie next to you fast asleep. Sleep is as much as one can do around here at this time of day: noon. Noon, when the sun is high and casts sunshine everywhere, ignoring the clouds and warming up this part of the world. We can only sleep, saving energy for the night when we can go back out to the world.
We lay on this floor, him snoring, me thinking. Thinking because my brain hasn't caught up to this thing called naps, only when the heat is too much does my brain lose the battle and surrenders into sleep. Meanwhile I think. I think about writing this, whatever it is. A study of sleep, of heat, of love, of life.