Texts that slide off the table

Sea Shells and Mollusks

Mortality: It is on sea shells that one thing is evident more than in any other living thing. Nowhere else the interplay between the soul vacating a body is as evident, the sea shell is a dwelling that doesn’t change with time, it is literally a dwelling that hides its inhabitant behind its swirly walls. The shells survival through time makes us consider of its opposite, corporeality. Therefore what we see in the museum is a dwelling without its inhabitant. Where did the inhabitant go ?.. Supplementing the concept of death with that of the soul vacating a body is what consulates me the most.

Words of paroxysm 

In my head everything and everyone become protagonists of a race, all those researchers and travellers like me have ventured through the same halls, admiring the art, the culture of this place. All of them have in their own shake loved this place, have connected to people, their love is declared.

How come that everyone’s love is counted? How come I perceive this as a race for love and attention. I am competing. I need attention so badly. I need to break through the barrier of plainness. Who is there to asses me along with all the rest? Everyone now is trying to seduce them by using tricks and other mechanics. The locals are rigid and rooted in place like the barricades that receive a charging army. The truth is I never liked conflict, but here I am..

The hazy end

There is no need pondering about the end when our beginning was so hazy,  buried under the weight of memory and heavy sand. Lots of sand.

The story on our book has no closure.

Enemies like water

On the two wooden models of Fort Leyden: ‘Chanel your enemies the way you channel water.’

Hydro – dynamics

Form takes shape after function.Who has thought of the hydrodynamics of melancholy ?

Beginnings without end

Sometimes we need to reset our priorities, we feel doing that as if we have forgotten something very important. For me it is about movement, going back and forth between ideas. I often try to cover an array of ideas some old some not as old. I am trying to encircle ‘myself’ usually very unsuccessfully. But there is nothing more important than the beginnings of ideas, everything will have a beginning, and like a musical piece the beginning will include the harmonic cues of the remaining song and will summarise it throughout its short course. It is that in beginnings present and future will present themselves momentarily like glistening gems in a sea of possibility.

The breach of St. Antony’s djike near Amsterdam 

Population split in half. Unity is broken. Water un contained is flooding the harmonic artificial human environment. Insecurity lurks into people’s hearts. Quiet is overtaken by noise. People shout from across the banks to each other. The sound of water gushing through the cracked rock, it is louder than their voices. The continuum of present to past is cut and people loose their footing to their collective and personal histories, momentarily only to begin weaving a new one along with the weaving of temporary dikes out of willow branches and rope. Water must be stopped. The grid is ready to be thrown down to the canals bed, kept under surface with the help of sandbags and rocks. Nature isn’t vengeful it makes itself explicable as it  presents itself to us, gradually. We are patching up the passing from one era to the other, we patch our way through as we grow older, as we become wiser, the patches will be there and the patches will be there after we are gone. Those patches, our saviours and the wounds of our kind.

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