Circulation without demand
As expected, Botticelli didn’t affect me enough to even brush my hair.
Day 52.
I slept deeply at my mum’s house.
Back at the flat, I boiled the laundry and slept another hour and a half. The body insisted on it. Then I made my way to Megabox COEX to watch Botticelli: Florence and the Medici.
By the time I found the theater, whatever energy I’d gathered was already spent.
I slept through most of the film—an hour and forty-five minutes, maybe more. My eyes opened once, briefly, at the centaur. Something about the shape of the body startled me awake. Then the drowsiness returned. Closed again.
It was an art screening, at least.
The theater was nearly empty. No one noticed.
Now I’m packing my backpack, trying to decide where to go next, where to take the body on a sober trip that won’t ask too much of it.
Maybe the subway to Yeouido.
Maybe The Hyundai Seoul.
Somewhere with movement but no demand.
Somewhere I can sit without having to arrive.
My leg hurt. The body keeps its own hunger.