Although “Objects” of Gertrude shows a little better in language, I prefer to go with the most destructive poem” If I told Him: A Completed Portrait of Picasso”. I listen few more times of sound recording on YouTube. All I can say is that echoing is everywhere and echoing, echoing, echoing, there is echoing on my ears, on my ears. Even though she continues she continues, I barely can remember barely can remember anything but “shutter shuts” but “shutter shuts” because “ shut” resonates” Shut Up”, shut it up.

This piece of reading is really repetitive, illogical, sparse, bizarre, repetitive, and really repetitive. I like poem, I really do do like poem, I understand I do understand that poem sometimes needs some unique imagination some unique imagination and goes beyond what our eyes can see and what our mind can “see”, it is not like this and it should not like this.

After brief introduction about her work in the class, I understand that she intents to do this. The question in my mind is why repetitive? How repetitive matters? What repetitive can bring to us? When I wrote some words repetitive as above, I feel fine and it is just fine. Even I kinda like that.

Cubism is the avenue for us to open the mystery. In cubism’s portrays, I know that objects are broken up, re-construct, analyzed in an abstracted form instead of showing them in a direct way. To use the limited space to explore the unlimited world, and also, the surface looks from seemly random angles, but actually not, and shows the perception depth so that the background and the targeted objects can interpenetrate one another to create a distinctive vague and ambiguous space.

Also, I get a sense of cubism, I still at a loss of Gertrude’s writing. But I feel better; especially I re-watch the body movement video. It is an expression of strength that grows stronger and stronger as I observe from the body movement. Their stretches are “square” or automatic which lack of humanized factors.

My thought pauses, but there is still echoing which comes from Gertrude. Still echoing, echoing. A broken language full of grammar mistakes, like a child, it is really like a child who speaks without boundary with limited vocabulary, but always tells what they really mean and who they really are.

She is she is she is as is she is driving me crazy, crazy to admire what she did to me, and what she did to me.