The name: What does one call thus?*

A Tuesday? maybe a lovely-pair called a Weekend. I call all my days, “DogDays' ' with a hint of affection and affliction. I count my age by Dogdays I survived, spent mostly hiding, often starving, perhaps one due to the other.

Hiding from the lush green forest where danger lurks in the invitation. Nothing seems to change or threaten in the thick of it, yet both body and mind morph into something which must go or fit into something else. The Other. I rub my back against their bark and against other dogs. We rub and rub, until we all start to look like each other, things which go into other things.  If I push hard enough, I must fit in. If I think hard enough, I must also start to exist. To exist to fit in a form which came way before me. A face, a name and a day of certain kind.

*On the name- Jacques Derrida

DogDays | 2024
Mixed media | 133 × 182 cm