Kim Janssen – Tor
Everyone be still, there’s a lull here weird and weightless. So many pictures sometimes like rocks, sometimes like stones on the floor. They often tiredly embrace a small tide flowing inwards and outwards. But these pebbles are getting caught today’s sunday somewhere in the middle, just beneath my skin. And I’m inactive. And I shouldn’t be.
These rocks out the ground, where age old water goes over, those rocks we’d go back to.
It was an October afternoon and somewhere in the distance I see 20 odd children sitting on this glacially eroded rock eating lunches thinking of nothing, wearing carefully arranged clothes and outfits, coats and boots, hats and little teeth, with home thoughts graced from mum. Somewhere far off home.
Up from the stone, there’s this beach where older people are reacting to each other and complicating the surface of the sand with their fingers with each other, spelling words grinning words. They’re about 50 metres to my right, just visible. Here sits two or three people in a moment, eating something. A metre to my left there are stones arranged in a circle. We went all over the island to find them. Three sons of another family and I, two of them younger. We’re going to burn grass and dry straw shoots. We’ll go swimming later. Swimming ages ago.
These rocks where everyone’s sitting.
Kim Janssen – Holme’s Bonfire 1666
If I read all this back with Kim Janssen’s newest album, Ancient Crime, playing, it seems a bit more meaningful.