Sixten Sanne

The usual has become the unusual
Notes from Lichtenberg Studios, April 2022

It turned in to something else.
It always does.
I suppose it supposed to, and it wouldn’t be a sign of the times if otherwise. I got ill, and so
did my family who then left me.
So, I went for a run to clear my head, but it didn’t get any clearer, it must have been foggy
outside. I did the dishes and bought yellow tulips from the local florist; they went on the
table. Something blossoming inside during a warm spring outside the window.
The vacuum cleaners chord got caught in the door, and I had to unplug it between the rooms,
it wasn’t long enough. There was a train station in a small forest, as I had crossed the bridge
to the right, I walked there another day as well, this time through a village of little houses.
The door never closed properly, and I had to wait to make sure it locked, either side I stood. I
thought I asked simple questions one block away, but got answers to different statements,
almost as if there was a delay, and I was having the conversation from the guest before.
Texts, uncertainties, and a selection of pictures, it was still many weeks until Mother’s Day.
The evenings became night, but the light stayed the same, hours pass irregularly when you
are not well.
I remember a Saturday clearly, and all the vendors trying for your attention, spend your time
here in front of this stand I stand. The cobblestone tripped my feet on the way home, and the
lights of the passing cars painted the puddles temporarily. I was spending time in an empty
delight. The floor was cold as I got in, and the kettle steamed up the tiles in the back – It is an
unusual time most often now, so I guess the usual has become unusual.

August, 2022