die Darstellung
Warszawa is about the future and Krakow the past. We are always moving forward. We are listening to music that does not yet exist. We are riding motorcycles that are not yet built. We are the act that brings forth an idea. We are always moving and therefore misunderstood. We are ungraspable. We are what we are not. We are this and that but not. We are the ever changing links between people, perception and performance. We are consume, not the material nor the ash and not even the flame, but the sensation only to be felt in change. Never resting we cannot be acclimatised to. For we are constant variation producing constant stimulation without desensitisation. Unlike the burning bush that burns but is not consumed we are consumed again and again ever as something else and are therefore not burned. We are the new - destroying ourselves to build again. We are the old - restoring and rebuilding. To realise nothing in becoming otherwise than and again. Without a view onto self nor onto the past only moving to what comes next. Never here, always on the way there. Without pause at the destination already on the way. Always departing away from. Nothing to arrive at. Leaving a wake of tails pursuing explorations at their points of departure where they got off. Pushing a new seriousness never understanding the question. Removing all sense of satisfaction. Leave the phone ringing. No answer. An upward moving vantage burning cold menace. A jostle from foot to foot. Demanding more from conditions, body, obstacle, upwards to stars out of orbit not facing West, into the sunset, nor East, expecting sunrise, but for the stars themselves. To emit light. To be a star-rise and star-set. To illuminate a planet. To illuminate planets. To light up the sky. To go beyond imagination explanation and condition as an irrevocable movement of universe. To be felt as expectation and surprise. The first Spring warmth, prickle bringing chill in Winter breeze. Moving alike across land and seas. Expanse cringes underneath a glance always hungry without eyes enough to take in what can be consumed. Always close to an end. A constant striving parabolic zero curving into infinite exactitude tossing away the relevance of numbers by affirming their conceptual existence. We assert our existence over the conceptual, lasting in a moment as real as they last forever dependant upon our moment. Our movement. Our act. Without understanding. Without attitude.
grau
wandering around for pommes, frittes, fries, or chips whatever can the poles being doing with potato hiding the basic necessities underground the typical farmer culture going back to australia i hear one is up to nothing good in the old country common misconceptions of the nothing new and a distaste for any kind of change whatever happened to progressive thinking has the world turned just another notch parents have never understood the ego tripping privilege of the new breed the dinosaur will eventually be buried under its own money stockpiling wealth on the second floor for the moment i will crouch back into a studio bunker on the other side of the river waiting for the bridge to collapse a lack of resources to rebuild a lack of imagination to reuse tunnelling the system into oblivion now is a good day to die the end of everything and the beginning of nothing