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Parallel flows #2



Breaking through the dense air of sighs and breaths.

When Structure is Replaced by Fragmented Moments

"I start the sentence for you to catch it..."


Analogue Diffractions #1



An Infinite Loop of Light Diffractions

Parallel flows

Changes, the reations of new forms, heterogeneities and processes in duration, which are no longer just a tool for representation, but through their interaction we can see what is somehow hidden.

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What would happen if all these pictures were taken away from us?

We. They.
We and They.
In duration.

In duration, everything is read as an event.

Faces of voice

Between body language, primarily facial expressions and voice.


The Same Sweat Still Flows through the Same Pores, #3 (Textures)

"I watch the changes and slide through time and textures, loaded with history and views.
I'm writing it down.
Not fixity. But slips, formations, interruptions, differences, duration, motion, relations.
We all breathe. It is this distance that we share. A matter of texture, density, relation, movement.
A matter of rhythm.”

8230 milliseconds in 1613 millimeters

"I invite the same touch. First. Impartial. Authentic.
Is it this, this here, or this or that? Not. There."
“Just an absent existence. A matter of texture, density, relationship. The distance which we share. ”


Proposals and Experiments, #2

"The Worrieseater is a small strange green frog with a red mouth.

It feeds with worries.

It can eat a lot of them even though he is small..


He is never hungry.

There is a lot of worry in the world!”

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The Same Sweat Still Flows through the Same Pores, #2 (Circulation)

“Where to start if not with this same picture?
Color, light, movements, departures, arrivals, slips, formations, contacts, touches, skin, body. 
Duration..  Always from the beginning. 
The contact.. 
Even closer..."


The Same Sweat Still Flows through the Same Pores, #1 (Memory)

“When I wake up, I swallow my saliva and try to follow its path - past the palate, through the oesophagus, throat, into the stomach - without being in any other form of  departure. Is it this one, this here, or that, I wonder. I take a look at the shadow of my own body, the sharpness of which gives way to a scattering of pixels that travel lightly across the table, across the floor, all the way to the closet, leaving a gentle trail of flesh behind.
I wonder. Who is alive here? And I head to the freezer for an ice cube. "

Proposals and Experiments, #1

"Fixity ends somewhere, just like fairytales.

But the rivers continue to flow,

the wind never stops blowing,

Pluto is waiting,

Tandertanium is without weight,

Mars is red.




Paradoxes of the same
(Not that there, but this here)

One of them description,
One touch,
One memory,
Each slightly larger, or slightly smaller than the other.

For older works watch here: 

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