Just Kids
Yesterday, sitting on a stool in my sunny kitchen, I began the final section of Patti Smith’s Just Kids. This is the part of the book in which she describes Robert’s illness and death.
Reading, I felt sadness trickle in and then fill me with the loss of him. My sorrow was for all of us with our world crushing grief for this or that Robert. One of the dogs came over to commiserate and lick my toes.
In honor of Patti and Robert, I took a photo so I would always remember how I felt reading their story at that moment in the kitchen.
It is said that children do not distinguish between living and inanimate objects; I believe they do. A child imparts a doll or a tin soldier with magical life-breath. The artist animates his work as the child his toys. Robert infused objects, whether for art or life, with his creative impulse, his sacred sexual power (page 136).
