Control system

Everything changed a little bit to the left.

I wake up at the subway with no idea of where I’m going. Who was I when getting on this train? I look out the window. We create this hard world. Then we create shoes to walk on it without damaging out feet. Lights passing outside in the dark while I’m trying my shoes against the floor.

Everything will move back again to the way it was and they will tell me what station to get off at.

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Silicone cubes

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Shellac and fabric box

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Collapsing cube of bandage and shellac

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Bloated cube of raw hide and concrete

 

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Reading and wrapping

“The stories don’t fit back together, and it’s the end of stories, those devices we carry like shells and shields and blinkers and occasionally maps and compasses.”

From “A Field Guide to Getting Lost” by Rebecca Solnit

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There used to something living

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And the preservation of it keeps it dead forever.

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Messages in bottles

Thank you everyone who entrusted me with your unheard messages! (Link to the project invitation) I have received around 70 so far, with some more on the way, and I feel very grateful to everyone who took the time to participate. I can not mention all your names, mostly because I don’t know them all.

Today has been the second day of casting and a small army of bottled messages is slowly emerging on the floor beside my work table.

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Quite concrete

Dear Poets,

You’ve told me that no one is an island. But also that everybody dies alone. Which is it? I’m finding it hard to figure out if I am an isolated container of life or if we’re all just reflections of the same thing, whatever that thing is. And you seem to be of every opinion. You probably don’t know either and in the meantime we keep pulling in both directions, drawing lines between people but doing almost anything to be allowed to belong.

Love, The Reader

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