Thursday, 20 April 2017

A Sudden Collision of Chocolate.

Madrid/March 2017


Do you think if we sat here long enough we would get the book finished?

I’d imagine I would have to go inside at some point and rummage through some of that chocolate.

Rummage?

Scrumage perhaps, then I would probably have to either sit at the piano and try to play some jazz, or pluck at the double bass and pretend.

Scrumage?

Two Ms perhaps?

Like rugby?

A collision of chocolate.

What have you eaten so far?

In fact, just a small tangerine and a glass of water.

Spartan.

More like cricket.

Do you think writing can be compared to sport?

I thought I was comparing eating.

Fair enough. How is the book going by the way?

It’s waiting.

For?

I’m not sure, a place like this, a day like this, a table…

Does the table begat the word or does the word begat the table.

You need a table. The blossom helps.

What blossom?

That which is falling on the keyboard.

Looks like Jasmine.

There’s another table over there, facing west.

This one faces south, it has blossom and there’s sand on the floor.

Reminds me of The Beach Boys.

We spoke of them last night. There was talk of whether you could trace the evolution of their emergence or if their sound was fully formed from nothing.

Is that possible?

All art is, but at the same time all art is not.


Art is Art.

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