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“Quarantine Diaries,” by David Garyan (Day 39)


Quarantine Diaries – Day 39 April 22nd, 2020

Trento, Italy

Frame of Mind


Sometimes I wonder what gets me out of bed every morning. Whose logic whispers in my ear? The weather will keep changing the same way— there’s nothing new outside, but you must still go. People come in and out of my life like transactions in a bank, but I neither save like the elderly, nor withdraw like a gambler. I learn to speak facial expressions from a book without looking down at the slang etched into wet cement— the streets have become both familiar and unfamiliar. Instead, I should ask: What thought makes me throw off the covers to do everything over again? I want to catch these reflections like hunters without weapons coming across the perfect prey. Who’s me anyways? When do painters become themselves? After a perfect self-portrait? After the first painting people admire, or right when someone picks up a brush? I’m no artist but I’ve drawn 12,000 sketches of myself and none of them exist, except the one I’m drafting today. Why must faces be famous to deserve histories? Why can common people only be acclaimed in the present? It’s not easy to hang your past in the busiest museums, for everyone to see, especially when the canvas you were born with had no primer, or worse yet, was torn from the start.

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