Emilia Martin

Juliane, Emilia, Inés, Isabelle, Sophie – common creativity
Sep 30, 2024

flat stone two pieces
breathe clouds in
fall deeply to dreams
house thank you

she made me tea
when I couldn’t
meeting each other as persons
first

lake you gorgeous lake
my body lake
fish sings love songs
yes

deep tunnels transform
icy sunny altitude
cold baths in the morning
thanks

to thank is love
raising above dread
to hold your own
ascension

Juliane, Emilia, Inés, Isabelle, Sophie – foody time
Sep 30, 2024

The Stone Soup

Don’t be fooled to believe that a Stone Soup would taste bland.
A creator knows that worlds are cooked word for word.

Ingredients:
House, one house so loved that each piece of sasso was carefully numbered
and placed on the ground.
Women, five of them.
Languages, two and half.
Arts, as many as they can imagine.
Time, a billion moments.
Meals, one for every evening.
Made with the slow growing treasures of the earth and the loving hands of the girls.

If stirred gently, respectfully the stones will weave together a wonderful tapestry of flavors.

Disclaimer: This recipe will nourish your soul and drive your inspiration for many months to come.

Salon Salad

Ingredients:
weeds
weeds

A weed you don’t know 
(sturdy crunch, salty acid, picked next to chair leg)
Sour Clover (most delicious, fortunate find)

Assemble a team. A hair salon of hands for unwanted growth. Talk about what’s between your legs and on your chests and the effect that has on how you live your lives as “others”. Gossip as mechanism for unity and vocabulary driven by teenage girls, foremost.  Get things off your chest and out form between the boulders that you normally carry around, just for fun. You did not pave the path, others were weeding before you. And so it turns out that by wanting to cuddle pumpkin for stew, storing tomatoes in green, 

salads (were) forgotten, tossed onto the hills of future pumpkin pillows. 

Tea for Dreaming about Good Ghosts

Ingredients Tea:
“Beifuss” leaves, dried
Mint
Lemon “Melisse”

Seep in hot water for 10 min. (Read in black ink: “for mild euphoria and colorful dreams, to smoke or to seep”) Burn toast, twice. Open windows, close doors. Sing old songs with new people, keep the smoke out. Next morning. Find a rock that looks like the toast, or the toast that looks like the rock, on the window sill. Place in tea-shrine. Drink the tea. Sleep under the roof. See the gentle house-spiritu. Hear the wind blow at night. Or at day. Or during dinner. Play an (unfinished) windowsill-symphony. The ghost wakes you up, throws things on the floor, opens doors. It wants you to know: I am here, please enter. 
Look at picture albums. See how a lost-cause of a barren, dusty, sud-stroken, barely sheltering shed can end with two heart shaped holes in the chimney, ready to exhale new lit fire’s smokes. 

Sophie, Juliane, Emilia, Inés, Isabelle – beginnings
Sep 20, 2024