Geddy Aniksdal's blog

At Vinderup, in the old Stendis camp, another Transit has taken place: Poetry in Space; Theatre, women, composition. Geddy Aniksdal reports.

My husband brings me a little red tray. On it sits a coffeemaker, a cup and the bottom part of a bun. I made the bun earlier, froze it, and brought it out to the woods with us. Now after a trip in the toaster it drips with good butter, and even more from the deep brown, fat, luxurious goat cheese, melting and dripping onto my hands.

My hands, my working hands, now find themselves in the cabin out in the woods. Here are these two small rooms. Here is the desk where I sit facing the window. Next to me is an old refrigerator, he cries when we open him, and sighs when we close him. There is no chance of getting a cold beer without anyone noticing.

My husband brings me a little red tray. On it sits a coffeemaker, a cup and the bottom part of a bun. I made the bun earlier, froze it, and brought it out to the woods with us. Now after a trip in the toaster it drips with good butter, and even more from the deep brown, fat, luxurious goat cheese, melting and dripping onto my hands.

My hands, my working hands, now find themselves in the cabin out in the woods. Here are these two small rooms. Here is the desk where I sit facing the window. Next to me is an old refrigerator, he cries when we open him, and sighs when we close him. There is no chance of getting a cold beer without anyone noticing.

My husband brings me a little red tray. On it sits a coffeemaker, a cup and the bottom part of a bun. I made the bun earlier, froze it, and brought it out to the woods with us. Now after a trip in the toaster it drips with good butter, and even more from the deep brown, fat, luxurious goat cheese, melting and dripping onto my hands.

My hands, my working hands, now find themselves in the cabin out in the woods. Here are these two small rooms. Here is the desk where I sit facing the window. Next to me is an old refrigerator, he cries when we open him, and sighs when we close him. There is no chance of getting a cold beer without anyone noticing.

Geddy Aniksdal writes a poem to Vero and Anto of Mestiza Chile, following her experiences at the festival.

Geddy Aniksdal wishes that we may all be strong/firm with persistence - the festivals we might organize; the books we want to and will write and with the fights we may have to get funded. The new performances that we will make. The need to be together, the friendship we share. May we be strong and firm and persistent in the meetings, the exchange that has fuelled and fed us for many, many years now.

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