Sanya Kantarovsky, You Become a Pattern, 2013 (watercolor, ink, bleach and gesso on canvas, 140 x 102 cm)
He was just eyes looking out of a head that couldn’t fit words to what was happening to him.
“On Sundays Kafka goes for walks by himself, without any objective, without thinking. He says, ‘Every day I wish myself off the earth. There is nothing wrong with me except myself.’”
— from a note by Max Brod, early 1911
mind
there is such a heaviness in me that stems from looking at my parents and seeing fragments in them which i cannot admit i feel are forming inside me aswell
countervisuality 