Our interior fantasy – a thrilling subject I am thinking about from time to time. There are fantasies living in all of us. Mine are sometimes colourful and perceptibly beautiful, but sometimes they are surreal and not perceptible. there are manifold fantasies – like flowers in a very large garden – huge sunflowers nearly touching the sky, enchantingly odorant calyxes in full rich colours, pillows with little florets, beauties – bizarre and prickly, pastel coloured dandelions . . . oh well, my arms wouldn’t be able to grasp all those flowers. My view will get stuck at an beautiful rose.
When does fantasy start gaining ground in us? Where does it come from? Who has put the seed into the fertile bed? Does it start in early childhood or later when reading a book? Will fantasy be rising by watching a film or from watching the world-wide-web? The pick-up may be different, and I enjoy a fantasy coming out courageously inside my studio. This does not occur every day, because this treasure of fantasy necessarily has to be protected. Only the suitable ears and hearts may share and celebrate. Here in my studio it may appear.
I remember a guest who wanted to experience my “London” – the affection of nylons covering beautiful female legs. I wanted to know, where this affection came from. From very early – even before school. His mother used to wear these velvety nylon stockings – as well as her friends who came in for tea, and one of his aunts. Because he was still very small, he used to crawl around assiduously below the table and the women probably didn’t notice the tiddler’s nosy peeks. So he was sitting there – as an admirer in the midst of this big temple with all its slim pillars – within his own grasp. Of course he didn’t dare – the fear for losing his cover and being sent out of the room was too big. Later at school his class teacher wasn`t only wearing incognizable beautiful dresses but very short ones as well, and when she was sitting on her desk in front of him only in an arm’s distance he better wanted to listen to his own fantasy but to the lesson. Was it the same with his classmates? No idea. He didn’t want to talk about it to anybody. It was embarrassing enough to see how his head and his body were more libidinous instead of following the lesson itself. And later? Did his girl friends wear nylons? Not really. They mostly wore trousers. Are you looking at women with skirts and nylons nowadays? He repelled this, startled. Oh no – this won’t work at all. There is too much probability to be to get a painful rebuff and possibly be denunciated as a peeping Tom. A short glance above the smartphone must be enough. At home he can watch extensively at his computer screen.
Caught in fantasy labyrinth.
…Read everything? Then subscribe to my newsletter. Then you can read everything in the future, here it goes to the registry
We have got 5 fingers on our left and on our right, 5 toes on each feet and 5 senses – day by day we use all of this to get an idea of the world around us and let it get into our hearts. This is why I encourage him and each smartphone oriented person out there to enjoy your ability to see more offline – in nature as well as downtown or with your vis-à-vis. Man should not be daunted if he doesn’t always win a prize with it. We are inhibited in our naturalness – all of us, men as well as women, in spite of all the penetrative online fuss. An eye’s view is like knocking at the door, waving, saying “hallo”. I’m a human being and you are as well. Oh yes, my guest is sighing deeply and caresses my nylon leg at the end of our visit to “London”. “I’ll be thinking about the offline moment.” “Yes, a real eye’s view meets real encounter. What a nice way to harmony.”
What about Anna’s safe 3.0?
Yep. You weren’t born for being a supporter of the protecting kerchief. That’ll take some time. But it is getting sensibly cuddly inside ma studio, because the journey is the reward.