I wear clarins nude brick. In this color lies the dry one, split sandstone, on which I went over to the red quarry in Bedoin. Rot, the earth, you could say and all red tones really lie in the brown of nude brick, the leaves of autumn like the rose pink, before dawn. Colours, that glow around the corner.
But the broccante mirror is off the window pane (where it was glued with this double-sided layer adhesive) Smashed to the ground and in two. That's too bad, because I also need the light, a u.a. recognize the detail or the main tone.
I'm wearing the washed-out, light blue mini-jumper, he still shows the depth, shard-deep dullness of the sky, a big, silent giantess from exhaustion. Then the golden beats, Trash threader from Alicante (a parable of a snake another time) as well as a thick one, 2cm wide headband made of deciduous brown velvet. This hides my straggly hair. And the brown, it reminds me of the autumn leaves and the red and gold spruce trees in Valais, where I hiked with Lydia and Hannes in September, as a child. Rust red and gold. And this sandy path, which broke into innumerable wrinkles from the drought. Lizards and small snakes used them as small hiding spots. The rain made the path muddy, like dark bricks.
Nude brick is a very expensive lipstick with an opaque finish, strong pigment, it's like a carpet, that covers the lips. Just with a layer of sea sand and lime, so that you can clearly feel your thirst underneath.
(18.4.21)