Wednesday, October 11

Haus. innen/ drau├čen

(... http://-/48726.html)

realisation. concrete.
that language allows for communication and exchange of ideas, mere trivia, darkest aspirations.
for connection. and while nature needs no language other than the most basic and primal of sensation and registration in the mind, in the heart, verbal language is the most direct mode of connection- to be spoken to directly lends no escape.

take that common mode of interaction away -are we doomed to never speak, in words or otherwise- , and youre left with filling in details of another life, all done on a solitary storyboard of your own visual notes and instincts. from observing the little lines that bond a family, to observing a figure at the bus stop, it doesnt stop until youve wondered what goes on behind quaint doors and vine covered walls to what this land you stand upon means, what lies behind the rthythm of its heart.

because i do so yearn to know you.

[near Vorlanderweg. Muenster.]
life growing all around, what goes on inside?

tell me what you believe in.

[biofarm. ?]
what goes on within you, who grows the earth?

[marg's haus.]
hermetically sealed. obvious bounderies always invite curiosity?

just because your mundanity reeks of foreigness. when one knows nothing, nothing is too trivial.

the ability to move on past and be content with the only gratification of beauty from the External, of the house.

[berlin. jewish museum]
among you, but how much of what i know is the real you. we move, and cast our thin shadows, you stay cursed to be still as more people come to see you, but merely slide between your smooth grooves, to pass out on the other side. who is more changed, us or you.

[en route to koeln.]
slipsliding tracks of life. nothingt static, but where do we all go? where do the passengers in the trains, the trains, the thoughts of the people waiting at the tracks, the ideas flashed in the ads to permeate our consciousness - where do you go?

at least i caught a wisp, which lends colour to a single moment in my life. thankyou.

what do you sell. what do you look for. and to the drumming hippies at the back, what do you dream of?

[duesseldorf. ]
of people, of buildings as containments of people- facade alone, can entertain, provoke thought, and invite.

a museum to tell me what you are; relics alongside the living in their sealed apartments, even as im oblivious to the wonder of life in the floating spectre above.

[vorlanderweg haus.]
nicola. rebecca. teresa.

[?. ]
if i i sidled up beside you, and whispered i wasnt sure... would you tell me what you think? to share with me your hopes which youve sent upwards to him?

[friedhof. muenster]
lives bound together, on earth in stone. was it like that in their lives? short of calling back spirits, these headstones display, but dont explain. one is free to derive as much or as little as is desired.

sometimes the strata of the different times alongside each other just boggles.
the cologne dom calling forth centuries of devotion to the Father and Son; the traintracks having transported lives for many generations; the father and his son, life after life after life created growing; the single moment in time that unites the nation; even as the flag reminds of events past; the eternal waters flowings underneath.

am i meant to observe contently? if i could speak to you, would you tell me the true meaning of your existance?