Loose thoughts ...or no longer ...

I have been feeling rather lazy, unorganized and "benumbed" ...  and the problem seems to be  the fact that this " inactivity" has been "contaminating" me for the last 4 years ...

Although I have been justifying (to myself) that such a state of "dormancy" is a (normal) subsequent effect regarding Faye's death ... deep down inside of me, I feel there must be (is) more to it than that ...

I no longer attempt to "paint"...

The simple sight of the paint tubes used to ignite my inner desire to express myself as a potential painter ... and what was a pleasure, (even if the final result didn't correspond to what I had devised in my mind and never was what I had expected) ..., no longer is ... irrespective of the fact that I still keep a close relationship with Art, though more as an observer and therefore a passive like "artist" ...

I no longer go to the beach, like I used to (every weekend) ...

In fact, the last time I did was in 2009, whilst in Sal, Cape Verde and Figueira da Foz and both "experiences" didn't last but a few brief moments. What would have easily been  promising afternoons (in a recent past), were to soon become fastidious ones ... with or without a book (my  regular "beach companions") ...  because I simply felt "restless" ...

I no longer go out dancing ... nor practice my Angolan "kizomba" steps along the house, whilst listening to those rhythms which invariably used to make me "slide" on the "dance floor", as if forced by an uncontrollable inborn movement ...

The latest (or should I say last)  dance movements were "performed" in a salsa dance class in Cuba  in 2008... and my feet didn't  quite accompany the willingness to follow the Hotel dance teacher ...  

I no longer "look after" the wooden African sculptures and busts spread around the house, like I used to ... dusting and wiping them carefully with a waxed cloth ...

I (even) avoid looking at them sometimes ... they seem to have lost their original colour ..., on one hand, this "temporary" situation takes me back (momentarily) to a book I read,  "The glorious family" by the Angolan writer Pepetela, in which  a family from Bengela took pride in the "whitening" of the race achieved by some of their family members because of having married into white families ...

  

I no longer do a lot of the things I used to like doing (and still like to do, at least theoretically) ... and  the ones I still keep on doing ... like going to exhibitions, reading or simply going out of the house are preceeded by a strong effort on my part ...