Time lost along the way: Gone or Lost?
Let’s imagine a duration without regular pattern. Nothing in it is recognizable, nothing ever recurs. It is just a duration […]
Let’s imagine a duration without regular pattern. Nothing in it is recognizable, nothing ever recurs. It is just a duration […]
that moment before something is about to happen where anything is still possible in between this is where you are stuck
A theatre foyer. Night. It is empty. The doors are locked. But if there were a woman there...
Dangling in mid-air like a thrust-out tongue, an oval-shaped rocky surface extends from the mouth of a cave to form a rough-hewn apron stage in the middle of a mountain.
They will surely become aware of the powers inherent in other generations, that the children and the elderly possess the wisdom of resurrection in our time.
We Balconies will continue to sing our endless songs, our revolutionary shouts and pings: “Other worlds are possible even in impossible times!”
It is the fantasy of a body discovering new relationships with itself. Silvia wants to be where there are no dimensions, neither internal nor external.
When you leave you leave the windows open and the doors and because the house sits by the sea by first light a film of sand gilds the floorboards and the kitchen chairs
Signs of violence are everywhere. Personal belongings, clothing, shoes, boxes, handbags, papers are scattered everywhere.
Audience members whisper into a magic lantern their favorite and most accursed first experiences of love.