I'm in Antwerp, staying at my first couchsurfing host's (name: Bram) apt.
Today, I walked all morning in the snow, feeling the wetness seeping through my black Pumas, slowly turning my toes to ice. I circled round and round a little platz (park), trying to find the laundromat I saw two nights ago.
I stopped inside a cafe to warm up, ordered some tomato soup, and ponder on the past few days.
Madrid. Prague. New Year. Antwerp.
And the following days to come:
Brussels. Brugge. Gent (perhaps, if time allows). Amsterdam.
After the light lunch, I finally asked a lady walking down the street for some direction, and she pointed me towards the laundromat. I didn't know how to work the machines, so I asked this girl to help me. Come to find out, she's an art student, studying in Antwerp. She offered to take me on a tour through her school today, and of course i said yes.
Finished laundry. More snow. Central Station to drop off my shit in a locker.
Art school tour. Reminded me, or reinforced to me, my decision to move forward as soon as feasible, to apply to art school and cultivate my mind. I know I have unplumbed depths, I just need direction. Met a sculptor, creating a woman from plaster. She is sitting down, her face concentrated, as if pondering on the paradoxes of existence. I take a picture.
Sarah, the girl from the laundromat, is in the In-situ program, sort of a hybrid between performance, mixed-media, sculpture, and space design. She had a 4-year collection of forks from various events and memories, all lined up, labeled with a small note. "Chinese Restaurant." "I love to dance." "Pumpkin Pie."
In art, anything is possible. I am like a catterpillar in a coccoon, not yet awakened. I shoot through life, my camera pointed at anything and everything. All at once, innocent, jaded, and hungry.
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