Finished this one up yesterday. It’s called spirit, but really, for me I call it los espíritus– spirits or souls in spanish. The inspiration for this piece comes from an old journal entry dated back to November 10, 1998, the four year anniversary of my sister’s death. I was going to school in Chicago then.
Tuesday, November 10, 1998
Sometimes I think that the wind is more than just currents of air. It is the spirits of those I’ve known and loved and even others of my own unknown. Spirits reminding me of their presence and the impermanence of life.
Earlier today I was walking down a long stretch of lonely sidewalk towards home. The wind was strong. Pushing at me, pulling at me. My long black skirt, my dress of mourning today, wrapped around my legs and i gathered my jacket closer to me and I looked ahead, my head tucked down.
Fallen leaves, damp from the rain, lifted up from the pavement and skipped across the walkway. A stream of movement. Dead leaves brought to life again. They came toward me as I too walked steadily ahead. Right as I crossed their path, the wind lifted the leaves up. They flew off the ground and circled around me in a whirlwind, a twister of sorts. I looked up and I smiled even though the wind stung my eyes.
.. ¿Tal vez es una locura pensar así? Pero tal vez, no. ¿Quien sabe?
Este mundo es muy complejo y no tan concreto que queremos pensar. Los espíritus están presente- en el viento, en las hojas, en las lágrimas, y en la fiebre.