soldering
/2/3/21
the granite spray is not water resistant, the larger pipes cannot be bend consistently, the pressure i did not miss at all. alternate, change plans.
this night, it was about a mess of a chocolate cake with red thin threads coming out of it and a cotton flower. it’s difficult to eat but so delicious i ask two people around to have a taste. later, my friend wants to show me something fascinating. we are sleep-depriving baby ducks and then watch them fly in a very slow motion.
Berlin
12/12/20
the room was big enough to accomodate all the people that came to the exhibition. this time, one could go in and be allowed to touch the artwork. it was a massive umbrella but it was upside down, so each segment of the inner structures, separated by the usual metalic spines, contained a different fabric. each could make rounds and touch them all. we are sitting in an open-air restaurant and are about to order food, while the two of them are facing each other, so charmed and infatuated that it’s becoming strange for the rest of us to sit at the table. we watch them as they keep watching each other.
Birds
11/21/20
arriving saturday evening in the small town we decided to make a fire in the garden, warm up and watch the flames. i go circles around it several times, like a ritual. the sparks jump often and i’m following their direction. one can see the church from here. haven’t seen her in two years, now we are together in the dream. the elements of the buildings are changing rapidly. the doors are first to morph into something else. she grabs my hand, too scared to look at all of them turning into new objects. i’m surprised at how vulnerable she is. i hold her hand through all of this. some other people i haven’t seen in a long time. they are all slowed down, witnessing. there are no facial gestures. in a way, they seem trapped in amber. motionless, but still alive.
monstera
9/30/20
it’s been long. not to fear death anymore from a specific point in. normality crawls in between the bones, a creaking sound everytime we go to bed. i’m afraid of not being afraid. the other night, we were visiting israel. it was a very green neighborhood, by the sea. there it is, the shore, she said, right behind there. but we couldn’t see it. that’s where she lived as a child. the trees around the villas were so luscious. the rich and their trees. the more impressive were the stone lions which were guarding every side of every villa. the scale of everything. as if connecting the homes to the shore through invisible threads. where is the sea
shopping
3/16/20
harder and harder to get out of bed. maybe i’ll find eggs today, flour and fish sauce to make kimchi, because the half cabbage is going bad. kimchi could make us a little more immune. but there’s no eggs and no flour. a mountain of sugar and an energetic tall old man passes by and smirks “ha, zucker!”. where was the enthusiasm before all of this? no more frozen spinach, no more frozen pizzas. all fridge shelves empty. only a green cabbage package, it’s funny. i’m looking for wet wipes and i notice that babywipes are cheaper than the women’s. i stare long enough and a woman snatches something from next to me, then she looks like leacing, stares at me, and snatches something again. then she leaves but keeps looking back at me. what was she snatching, almost empty now. it is children soap.
umbrella
4/15/20
mom and aunt were fine, the cat was around too. they didn’t seem to be worried. not as much as i was. i tried to explain the situation and come up with a plan. next, we are inside a big community house, but also a school. i’m looking through a delicate art album, with very old pages, thick and translucid almost. but i’m bleeding from my hand, a drop lands on the page and spreads like watercolour .. then another one. i try rubbing it so that it fades away, but i make it worse, before i make it better. there’s a teacher talking to some students. later, we realize these are our yearbook albums. i descend the stairs and meet her there, hug her for a while. an outburst of affection .. i don’t tell her anything. i keep going. there’s a house with many external corridors, stairs, glass and metal, the structure is like a map of her mind. what am i doing here.