15.04.22 - 21.05.22


Swarms of birds took to the skies. Dogs started barking. Animals small and large left their  nests and lairs. In a moment of incredible silence it seemed like the landscape was holding its  breath. Then the mountaintop exploded. While hurling molten rock over vast distances, its red  rivers reached the sea. Clouds of steam obscured the newly formed land from view while ash  covered the rest. No one was near enough to see the vast plume in the atmosphere but the vibrations were felt all over.

A linen cloaked fortress shimmers white over a vast carpet expanse. Towering pillows give off static. The cushion keep, this beacon of safety, stands in the secluded sofa valley. A flag hangs  motionless in the still air. Beware everyone who intrudes upon this independent territory! Its  laws and customs will be fiercely defended. Yet, tempting traces of familiar scents start breaking down the walls. A messenger knocks on the gate calling the lords name. It seems playtime  is over.

The artist waited in front of the red light. It was the third one en route to his atelier. He rounded  the corner onto a cobbled path between two houses and crossed the shadowed space beneath the shrubs. In the air, a smell of compost and petrichor. He pushed open the door. It was  not locked, needn’t be. Windows looking into a different world cover the walls of this labyrinthine space. Some rooms are overgrown. Some have many doors or no floor. Suddenly he sees  a window he has not seen before. After climbing through it, he finds himself outside again. In  the air, a smell of compost and petrichor.

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