I sit by the fifth table, by water, on a concrete bench. I see less and less embroidery voices.

Problem of a soul stands as a linguistical instinct. Following raying sun into an exercise book without music key, my body, room and Earth invent new emotions, having had illuminated habits without answer.  Feel thoughts with textile of Time. Earth does not have a face side, nor side at all. Unit of a dot in a circle, in its imagination, touches sublimated blockage of semiotics. Dripping water is only an applied sky, the depth of which nests in our lungs. The eye shore formulates exclamation points, and their lines are our vertical heads. Semantic blockage encircled profound N degree in a human as a living concept. What is a historical location, if not own consciousness?

​

Ready-made installation

(baby shoes, writings, music stand, mirrors, bench, museum-window, plates, glasses, cutlery)

​

Dimensions variable

​

2017