A swan always reminds me of deep sleep and big soft pillows that give rest and comfort to me. What makes me now so anxious? It is the sight of the white floating creature, the winged and beaked pillow that is hissing at me aggressively. No one likes to hear her pillow hiss at her! Also, the shock of seeing part of my dream world being dragged from the nocturnal depths out in the broad daylight – it is almost unbearable. And what’s more, suppose it was a nightmare: a sharp-clawed, shaggy, screaming bird.
Like most children, I have engaged in a pillow fight and enjoyed both the game and the fluffy feel of the air that got thick with down. Since adulthood I have continued my pillow fights, but they take a different form now. My pillows would often break, thus making it possible to pull the feathers out and arrange them on the bed sheet according to their different shapes and colors. They are my alphabets and colourful syllables. I arrange them according to a certain design, but the pattern is often broken because the pattern elements are difficult to keep in place. A slightest breeze is enough to blow them away. True, language organizes and conceptualizes things, but, at the same time, it is feverish, full of excitement and play − like a crazy whirl of feathers.