Apr 162015
Summer
Back to normal
I wake up with a sticky feeling. My belly is like a melon, taut as a drum, a fruit with juice sloshing about in it.
I scrub the blood out of my futon and try drying it with my hairdryer. Thanks to the June warm spell my bedsit window has dehydrated enough to un-jam. I open it to help with the drying then set off on my bicycle for the Foundation class.
A period. An especially bloody one, and yet purposeless, like the pointless and annoying existence of wasps. God having a laugh.
Is bleeding while modelling ‘performance art’?
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