Fuego III

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fashion in reality”. And I thought about these words the rest
of that night into the morning when I tried to write.
It was the next week that I met up with Perelli again at his
studio in Dalston. We started to speak about philosophy, in
particular Wittgenstein, and the limits of language. He said
many things, and I did too, but nothing much transpired in
the way of thoughts into actions, somewhat akin to
philosophies effete charms. I started to think about Claudia;
her eyes, her mouth, her body. Though the subject then
changed, and we started to talk of Rembrandt’s ‘Stoning of
Saint Stephen’ and how the colours were luminous. Though
by this time I was totally distracted, whilst Perelli passionately
spoke about Rembrandt.
That evening as I was making my way home, through Dalston,
I thought about the trials and tribulations of flies, and how
their lives were quite disturbing and from a certain perspective
quite meaningless. Regardless of being quite consumed with
this I was still ‘Put out’, in a way.
I don’t know where to look, I thought. The feeling of
claustrophobia is one that only increases in certain situations,
for me. The lightness of being is, at that time, disturbed and
concerned with nothing but exiting the situation. And this was
the case that Friday on my way back from the Gallery when I
happened to bump into Perelli again.
Perelli seemed distant, as if something traumatic had just
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