|Blogs > goderer > Same shit different day|
The manequin marie helene leans against the wall of my studio. Today she wears a black hat and a string of colored fake peppers. She is tall and her skin is smooth except for the bruises she got from the fall she took shortly after I met her.
I didn't know how to handle her in those days. Seems I'd set her up slightly unbalanced. At first I thought she was standing securely and started to turn my back. Catching movement from the corner of my eye I turned again to find her tipping over but faster than I had calculated. I lunged to catch her but hesitated for a split second unsure of which part of her to take hold. I caught a bit of her. Too late. Her fall was slowed but she hit the floor nevertheless, her skin shattering like glass at the impact points, her scalp and her upper right thigh.
Those bruises she now wears with the same calm indifference as that of her namesake.