Ongoing dialogue with you about media, performance, ritual. Reflections of you, traces of me, shadows playing in the dark when no one can see.
Wednesday, August 20, 2008
space
These fotos are from the performance space on Fillmore in downtown Phoenix, just so you can see what it looks like in here...
postale
N--
I have a twin too. Looks nothing like me.
love your games, funny, funny, funny...
I love your shoulder, trembly, trembly.
I love your gravity, it makes me fall, and I fall, fall, fall.
I am an assemblage of metal and wood, just like you said.
Love,
--E
PS Moving to Berlin, taking the letters and the sounds with me.
I have a twin too. Looks nothing like me.
love your games, funny, funny, funny...
I love your shoulder, trembly, trembly.
I love your gravity, it makes me fall, and I fall, fall, fall.
I am an assemblage of metal and wood, just like you said.
Love,
--E
PS Moving to Berlin, taking the letters and the sounds with me.
Tuesday, August 5, 2008
Letter to Echo
Dear Echo--
I wish I could tell you all the things we used to tell each other, but you're not around, and I don't think you ever really were. I keep meeting people with your name, but none of them look like you, and none of them look like me, none of them are you, and I can't find you. I think some of them love or loved me a little, and maybe I loved or still love them a little, but none of them are you. I can't find you. No one could ever read me like you could. So I'm left looking for your traces in a country I don't know, and I wonder, I wonder if, when I get to look into mirrors again, if I'll still wonder if I'll see you, coming from behind me, like a hurricane, like a hunger, like a message from the water. And I wonder if I'll find a way to stop looking for you before the Summer is over, because I don't know how to be with the people who remind me of you, when they turn out not to be you. And they always do. And I wonder if you're living behind the eyes of the woman on the train, in the cafe, on the street, checking my eyes to see if I've stopped looking for you, because I think that when I do, I might decide to enter this life, as if I were born to walk in it. I miss you on all the corners of the earth.
--N
I wish I could tell you all the things we used to tell each other, but you're not around, and I don't think you ever really were. I keep meeting people with your name, but none of them look like you, and none of them look like me, none of them are you, and I can't find you. I think some of them love or loved me a little, and maybe I loved or still love them a little, but none of them are you. I can't find you. No one could ever read me like you could. So I'm left looking for your traces in a country I don't know, and I wonder, I wonder if, when I get to look into mirrors again, if I'll still wonder if I'll see you, coming from behind me, like a hurricane, like a hunger, like a message from the water. And I wonder if I'll find a way to stop looking for you before the Summer is over, because I don't know how to be with the people who remind me of you, when they turn out not to be you. And they always do. And I wonder if you're living behind the eyes of the woman on the train, in the cafe, on the street, checking my eyes to see if I've stopped looking for you, because I think that when I do, I might decide to enter this life, as if I were born to walk in it. I miss you on all the corners of the earth.
--N
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