Some of my earliest memories are of me snipping away. Collagé has such a surreal quality about it. Pieces of memory ripped out and reshuffled to create a new more pleasing one.
They are sitting in the café, just met...the excitement of his presence mingles with the alluring coffee aroma. He tells her something intimate, something you only tell a stranger you just met, someone who won’t judge. The cold outside is envious, presses itself against the window to get a clearer view, but the coffee machine’s steam hides their gestures and expressions from the colder world outside. I love this memory. He asks her something and she looks down shyly, plays with the empty sugar packet. The back of a sugar packet lends some wisdom. He asks her what she’s thinking. She reads the words printed at the back of the sugar packet. You don’t want to know what I’m thinking about, she thinks. She answers something the cold and I cannot hear.