Of shipwrecks, safe havens and wings
I am not sure what the painting represents.
Maybe a shipwreck.
Or a day in the life of a seagull.
Or maybe those two rocks symbolize something.
When I was little,
I thought it was about Robinson Crusoe.
His ship was wrecked on a day like this one.
Look, these are the rocks he held onto.
And this is the island where he later lived.
When I was small, I wanted to live inside it too.
Maybe there were mermaids and underworlds.
Or I could be a mermaid myself, or a gull.
Everything’s possible inside a painting like this one.
I could tell you more about
what I was like as a child.
Or I could tell you about the painter,
a refugee from Russia after the Revolution.
Or I could tell you about my grandmother.
This painting had been her dowry.
Later she carried it wherever she moved.
Until she came to live with us
and the canvas found its place on this wall,
where it still lives.
I guess I could tell you more about her life,
or that of the painter, or mine.
Or I could continue this metaphor
of shipwrecks, safe havens and wings,
Or I could admit that I am not sure exactly
where I am going with all this.
