Today the exhibition opens at the Slaughterhouse, Nari Ward’s exhibition, which is why we all gathered on Hydra.
Although not really because of Nari Ward.
Because of Dakis.
Because of the sun.
Because of the water.
Because of Apollo.
Because Hydra itself.
Hydra is a portal.
I come here every year and something in me becomes slightly more porous.
The island does not change very much.
Perhaps that is why I do.
I love Hydra.
I love the peculiar physics of life here.
Every year I invite one friend through the portal.
This year, somehow, there were nine of us Serbs. We are actually Superb, so we have a SUPERBIAN commune on Hydra. Branka, Jovana, Bojana, Milica, Maša and her mother, her brother, and her brother’s pregnant wife.
Nina Lalić, who invented the term SUPERBIAN, was missed on Hydra this summer.
Last year there were Igor Simic, Seffa Klein and Julie McCarthy.
I missed them.
And then, naturally, I met my intergalactic husband.
I always meet him here.
This year he behaved as though I did not exist.
Which is correct.
I am only a holographic projection.
A temporary error in his field of vision.
The only sentences I heard from him this year were:
I have a call.
I have to go.
He is constantly running off somewhere, without realizing that he is actually running away from himself, which I consider an excellent cardio workout.
I find this admirable.
Hydra watches.
The sun does not interfere.
Apollo, presumably, understands.
