Spring came and went and the 
war footage didn’t let up and I didn’t paint. 

I asked my grandmother — whose interesting
character (I am being diplomatic here) has

inspired a lot of my work — what she has
been up to lately. Nothing much. Praying for your repugnant soul etc. 

Not much use. Rafeeq had been dead
for two months, coming up. Of course

nobody knows exact dates in these
situations. What do you put on the

headstone then, someone asked. What headstone. 
I thought I was stating the obvious there, maybe not.

Maybe his headstone is what I am supposed
to be painting. And why can I not let 

go of the idea of supposed to, even
under these circumstances. Add it

to the list of things I really need to
think about one of these days. When I

have uninterrupted time. When my
grandmother does something noteworthy. 

I have remained so completely out
of use for so long it is almost interesting.

The ground is still black 
where the bus was torched, just

entirely black. A good backdrop
for the flowers that have been laid.

I cannot help who I am, I still
notice these things. None of

the words I would like to hear 
have been invented yet. Let’s sit 

with that for some time. When we 
can. And I do nothing so I can basically any time.