my name is Orly. My home objects talk to me. A nose peeps from a door knob. A strainer
with a big belly cries that she is fat. A sharpener barks furiously at me. A pencil
tells me how the eraser silences him. Just yesterday a carrot smiled at me from
the cutting board and a potato looked at me sadly when I made mashed potatoes.
the kitchen has become a wonderland - salt dunes, strainer mountains, radish
trees, sugar hills. Suddenly I feel like I am "Orly in kitchen wonderland",
Jump in, run after Mr. salt. "I am rushing
to Mrs. paprika tea party," he gasps at me on the run. I climb a giant
grater to see the grater desert land or sit under a giant fork tree while spoon
birds fly above its branches.
a wonderful land. A land of mysterious spaces between strainers holes. Lemon
squeezers anchored on the basin shore. A bread runs without rest to arrive
fresh to the table. For years I sail in my dreams in this kitchen Wonderland.
Occasionally I skip to the sewing box, were some buttons are stuck in an
impossible relationship with a nervous shirt and a thread that forgot how to
make emotional ties. In the shower I meet a hairbrush looking for her mission
in life. It is not possible that my mission in life is just to comb hair, she
says with tears in her eyes. I cross a comb bridge and go up a zipper road.
Plastic sun is shining from the ceiling. Comb cars drive like crazy on the zipper
road, crocodile comb opens his huge mouth towards me and a noisy flock of hair pins
jumping on a rope.
join me on a journey. Traveling to my inspiration and creativity places. In my
backpack I have a hysterical pencil, a smart Mouse, and a camera with a mind of
its own. In my Wallet Monopoly money bills shout at me "do not waste"
when I touch them. I get on my grater carpet and fly. It pricks my back a
little bit, but at least I am on the way.