looks like a photograph


autoteatro à moz ASZ 2016 

The word
out of the mouth
into the world
unwrapping itself
from any sound:
I am the punchbag of silence

The memory is the mother of memory says Pietá but she also says I’m a lonely wolf but she also says I’ve been in this world for too long but she also says she has balls but she also says… and I cannot but hear the song, the sad nested soul-song, the one the Earth weeps and weeps and weeps, I can hear it, even with all the asphalt, it is soo sad and everybody seems to avoid it, to auto-deaf themselves… to entertain the slightest chance, how could we even reply? It is a sad sweet song indeed, I wonder why do we pretend that’s not important, that’s not there… I also wonder if I’m loosing my mind, maybe my mind’s growing finger nails attached to finger tips which touch everything but grab nothing. I wonder if I’m delusional ’cause I fucking hear it, I hear it damn it!! I hear it and makes me sad also… I had to escape the city, literally I got sick, my soul was being shuttered, consumed, tainted… and none of the human made leisure cubes could make any difference… try to explain that to your friends, see their faces, feel their ronhonhô sympathy. Anyway I’m glad I’m back to the bay, as a good fish that I am I need to nurture on the ocean and the waves and the storms’ sad pomelegy and the seagulls, the lovely crazy and free seagulls that I do not own but they’re as mine as my lungs and the clouds always buying new clothes, so conceited and hasty yet playful… I think I’m on the process of stopping being a human… not so much as a kafkian sequel but as an enfolding (involute) movement… back to the nothing, back to the void, back to the form, back to the unknowable non-entity energy stream someone left flowing inside a donut




 naked marilyn monroe ASZ 2016



conjunto de pedaços de tipo-fotos maish ou menosh a 3/4 • click 4 larger 


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ni! for now
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