Words and Artwork by Eleanor Cowell
Silk sheets, warm air,
closed eyes
drink
rippling thoughts.
The ceiling can’t tell me, what
the dark can’t show me.
I lay, and I make my own
walls in my mind.
Past and blankly,
frankly,
just
waiting to unwind.
I have always had problems with stress and throughout my art career I have subconsciously documented and analysed my mental state’s exploration of depression and anxiety. Medication and health aside, I’ve never been able to sleep well, and so I use poetry as a form of relaxation. ‘Las Paredes’ describes a restless night from when I lived in Spain; getting used to those foreign walls I had placed myself in, physically and mentally.
