Without words by making an image. Stitching time, fusing our bodies to a specific environment. In Malmö we will share in a stitching conversations in the Boarding school. Our poetic self is a joint body, we are a translator to words.
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We long for A moment when our contours are dissolved and becomes part of everything and everyone Body more than mind A place to feel togetherness A place without mingling, without conversation, without prestige A church without religion A pause filled with all hours we lived through, where time…
lump in my throat, shallow breath, racing heart after pulling down the net from my ceiling…collecting material from outside my door, where those who visited reflected. the net had become so tangled with time, it did not want to come down…leave the nest……foggy mind, sensitive skin, heightened hearing. desire to…