Where are they?

The caricaturist, the writer, and the artist?

  • I haven’t seen the caricaturist for a while. The boat she was on, capsized. She clung to the sides while the waves lashed out on the boat and flung her aside. Last I saw her, she was bobbing up and down on the violent seas…a ghost, a speck, a point…and then nothing.
  • I have been meeting the writer off and on. The humorist, she told me, is dead – the romanticist thrown in a dark dungeon of her own mind, only the realist continues to grapple with the truth, writing stories that don’t end.
  • The artist is alive – feeding her emotions, stoking her expressions, painting her canvasses – loading them with truth.

When and if the roles will ever change again, I haven’t a clue.

But if the past is any indication – the caricaturist doesn’t die, the writer keeps transforming, and the artist usually is the glue that keeps the three together.

Until December then…


6 comments on “Where are they?

      • The last years have been hard and challenging, I think. You’ve seen I lost my dad a few months ago, but it’s been a tough time from even before that, with family issues (my mum’s dementia being one aspect) and my own health going more and more awry. But I’m still battling on, a bit slower, a lot greyer (my hair’s gone a fabulous shade of silver-gilt that I am told it very fetching!) and still writing when pain and energy levels allow.
        It was good to see your post pop up and I hope that you too will begin to find a comfortable way and more hope.


      • I’m fine – just transforming. I have become more aware of who I am and who the people around me are – and I believe that when this transformation ends, I’ll have become a better me. Fingers crossed.

        Liked by 1 person

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