I have spent several nights here by myself at the house. The contrast between day and night in this place is striking. The daytime offers a breathtaking beauty, and I enjoy my time here so much, particularly in the garden. However, when night falls, fear takes hold of me, and…

With my eyes closed… sensing. Stomach, heart and taste buds getting ready. The beginning of a smile in my hips, and the touch of the air on my lips anticipate the sweet taste of here and now.      

After each visit I wonder how to bring your knowledge overseas, closer to my home. How to even begin to explain what I experienced, wrap into words what should be touched, inhaled, felt through the pores of the skin. Minutes stretching to infinities while sipping tea with a little spoon…

Crossing the threshold, leaving the known world behind. Preparing for revenge against the one witch tongue in the thought leaves an unsafe tension in my body. Revenge for the plim and palm you have to take care of. The spine wants to free itself, wants to move in the shape of ssss,…

Waking up with the birds, the cool spring air, the water everpresent in the body of the city, the bodies that inhabit you, that you inhabit. I breathe you in. Even before walking outside, I sense the morning light touching my skin. To be (with)in and besides time.

soon I’ll cross the world to find you again for another cycle, maybe another rebirth ready to drown in a deep ocean and be softly rescued by your multiple arms    

Do you remember? Can you? Maybe it was just a moment. Maybe it was many. Sweaty bodies packed with instruments, clowns and wonder dust. Lose yourself in the stimuli. Tap into the harmonic. Heartmonic. Harmanic. Heartmanic. Which one is it again? Leopard print pants. Drawing with lipstick all over your…

  Epilogue Bumblebee’s Biography is elusive, does not seem to want to take a clear form. It feels like such a non-issue, in the here & now. An existence mostly (rather than a sequence of distinct events)… stretching over time, suspended in it, floating, flowing, continuous, undramatic… yet far from…

The Missing Touch. At a time, a star high above all of the others were overwhelmed by the beauty all around it. It shed a tear, and the teardrop fell straight down and was clear as a crystal. The teardrop had no edges, no sharp points, sides or corners on…

The holding hand is brought to life, when I lie on the ground and my only focus is to inhale and exhale, while I warm my heart and stomach with my hands. When I hold my hands on the same direct spot for a while, it feels like I’m hugging…