beitrag von: ariga
A Late Afternoon. February 2019. Vienna.
Designed as a competition for students.
Flying out onto the park.
A collection of leaflets.
“A book.”
Still.
The marks on my pages dance intricately.
“Let the birds out.”
Then –
A hesitation.
I remember.
I imagine.
Both, to melt into perception.
Do I really teach them to think in layers?
Do they teach me?
My intuitions come from outside.
If they come at all.
Up from the park.
From this quiet room, with the lights off.
Afternoon sun paling outside.
In doubt is truth. In doubt I trust.
A shallow me between the pages.
Ink.
When things become apparent.
I follow my work.
I follow what I am given.
To unlearn the narratives.
Maintaining infinity.
review von: ann cotten
The first two sentences make me think of pigeons being students, an image that is going to stay with me probably for the rest of my life, whenever I see pigeons. or students. also the pigeon-view of a book being leaflets.
then in "Still", the letters feel like thick paper. when i was in japan the first time i bought some pretty paper, turned out, it was candy-wrapping paper - so people thought it was really weird when I, trying to be pretty, wrote letters on it.
i needn't continue describing how your text goes on, a beautiful and touching meditation on a situation that, certainly, touches me most poignantly as someone tasked with dealing with texts given. thanks for this.
