PTYCHOSES-PSYCHOSES

07.08.04


I kept everything at a distance for many long hours, precisely because I don’t like being apologetic in the diary and because I’m sick of giving explanations for my behaviour. I would not like to continue with this same old song, which makes me analyze motives and causes to a disgusting degree. I don’t wait for anyone of you to understand me and I definitely don’t demand that. If you have a disability similar to mine or even different, this means absolutely nothing to me as regards our compatibility or difference, both mine from yours as well as yours from mine. I look at all of you as human beings and not as disabled creatures.

Moreover, I am telling you now that if something happens to the driver of that train, who I cursed, I don’t intend to celebrate it with a cake. I will eat it all by myself and you’ll never even know. (You couldn’t care less, I know. I’m just saying that so that you can appreciate a little bit more my willingness to share with you everything that happens to me and understand that it is much easier to appear as the cool and nice Nicholas than publicly admit my negative features. I often think that some of you forget that.).

Today my sister Jenny, our friend Dimosthenes and I visited an exhibition at the Benaki Museum, entitled ‘Ptychoses’. We had the chance to see a variety of dresses from the classical antiquity to this day. You might think that no ‘real’ man would have any reason to visit an exhibition like that. In that case, you couldn’t be more wrong. At an exhibition under this title (‘Ptychoses’), everybody can see how vibrant every single piece of cloth can be, as this is ‘revealed’ with the ingenuity of experienced designers and tailors. We are talking about the real thing here, no kidding.

On the second floor of the museum, we visited an exhibition about the Native Australians, against whom the whites fought about fifty years ago in order to make them desert their own cultural identity and thus become submissive to the whites’ superiority. I don’t know much about history. This is why I bought the relevant booklet (actually it was Dimosthenes who paid for it, since I only had 5 Euros in my pocket) from the museum’s store.

On the last floor we saw a photography exhibition from both Greek and foreign photographers; their subject was to depict Greece from antiquity (monuments etc.) to our times (photographs of the cities and their daily life). The visit to the museum was great as a whole. No misery, no patchwork. I forgot myself and thought that I was somewhere abroad.

For your information: I will not post anything this weekend. I’ll go celebrate Christina’s birthday at our country cottage. We’ll be together from Monday onwards.