Corpses and graves

As a child, my primary interest – apart from playing, usually quietly, all the time – was painting, I even covered the inside and outside walls with crayon drawings, on paper I used watercolour : I gave up painting soon, though, when I was about six or seven – after regularly attending drawing classes at school.

There is one painting I remember especially, made when I was five : a dead body (or a skeleton? I forget.) on the ground, around which people are dancing and celebrating.

I have another distinct memory from childhood : under an old threadbare blanket, I would often imagine that I was in my grave, and the floral print was flowers that people were throwing on my body and I could see through the shroud.

I was dead and I could see.

I could see.

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