rot. that's what i heard everytime i stood in the west studio. i had to cross to get supplies. then i forgot the razor blades, then the alcohol, back and forth, open the window. back and forth and suddenly 'rot' pops into my head. as if someone were saying 'oh rot.'. it is an old persons voice. smells musky. straggly hair, greased with sweat on top. three teeth show, the rest rotted stumps. 'rot'
smudged the space and rot settled down.
the studio air seemed to be milky today. as if the fog had seeped inside. it seemed to swirl and settle as i moved through. i thought they might have burned meat in the blackburn. lakshmi didn't smell burnt meat. she smelled incense. it sounded like there were folks upstairs (there is no upstairs). heard some men talking and doors opening and closing. there are more folks in the building; however these sounds were 'in' and 'of' my studio space. there are a lot of them.
ps: there were also echoes of children playing in the building, chasing balls, and the voices would trail off.
ghosts an over active imagination. i don't know. but the milky air settled back into the space the day i left there for good. i smudged to cleanse, and i 'saw' it roll back in and settle.