an image, a sound & a place



To disappear into the fog, any fog, I feel, is to write an unwritten text 

because entering the fog marks a headless ending. 


By taking a step forward into the fog, 

one’s shoes become displaced by their foamy hesitation: to move forward is to foam. 


To move backwards is to remember. 

Remembering what once was before the foam,

the remembering of thoughts through movement

before images project the thoughts of thinking movements.


 but … remembering to forget? 

how does one remember that physical movement also moves through thoughts

and that thoughts, or rather the arrivals of thought, 


and by change I mean submersion,

the subversion of mechanical movement/

the movements of objects and the places from within objects

as caves that can be use(d) for seeing the inside of seeing.



This is an immersive vision that moves through emotions

with thoughts

as they slide and drip or twist and stretch

across the eyes, screens, silences or empty rooms


curved hallways, darkened back-alleys and quiet corners

These spaces, these rooms gather

like places — places without spaces

Spaces without places, 

like thoughts that become shelters, 

darkened caves, places to inhabit, far-away distances.


Either way, the night is long

and we’re here alone,

alone in this room

the room where there is no room.