*** The shoulders to hide behind, to climb or conquer nights long, the contrapposto pose, the serenity and monumental devotedness to me - even the busy and indifferent Rue Froissart…
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*** I will read out loud to you, the sound of the Slavic vowels would drive you closer, you'd let my book slip from my fingers and fall down onto…
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Groningen (NL), NP3 – The White Cube 16 November 2019 h 16.00 SO, WHAT IS YOUR QUESTION A performance in three parts or acts, which is a reflection on...
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*** I hear the river in tender white, under the black bridge warmed by red city trams, ironing the silver rails in -36,6 agony. I care no longer but for…
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*** Muddy, gold and swan-less they get in Autumn - the Volga river and my hometown. The more I think of it now, the sadder the canvas unfolds. The greatest…
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We'd slip quietly upstairs, I'd lead you by a single finger to the roof. On an impulse I'd grab a pillow and would rip out feathers by the handful, I'd…
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*** In the Southern sunlight I walked into the sterile hand symphony of yours. Before you had a second to resist, I shot the image with my eye and moved…
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*** I kiss the left bottom corner of the photo, I touch the force which lifts me higher than the airplane that holds me tight and brings to Budapest. The…
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*** On the art nouveau steps of a theater, the unjewelled silhoette witnessed by maritime figures of pines and me at Villa Torlonia, with no airplanes in the air, moved…
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