i am not safe when my safety is designed by somebody else.
especially if that person designs my safety in a way that makes them feel safe.
that imposed safety is a form of violence.
because of COVID-19 and the fact that i might loose my housing on June 30, 2020,
i feel closer to death.
i know i have to surrender to my intuition.
i try to release old trauma.
i try to release old habits.
i get rid of old material stuff.
i think of repressed desires for resolve.
before i die, i would like that Nick Torok and i acknowledge that we were not ready.
is that exactly what i want?
i try to accept change.
i understand safety in a different way.
and then,
i panic.
wind and arrows fill the space between my bones.
my skeleton extends even more out of balance.
no housing is not an option.
no community is not an option.
i work all my energy to save our housing.
i worry about getting sick.
i worry about safety procedures.
i worry about my parents in Switzerland.
and then, i discipline myself towards allowing myself to love a wheel:
sound of a new 27 inch wheel before balancing the tension of the spokes and truing the weel
same wheel during the truing process
next time it will be louder.