to borrow this light, I don’t think it would hurt. the various shapes it takes I can take on fast, and in a minute calmly part
from the landscape. inhabiting a space is not easy—a chair or a room in a hotel on the seaside, or a bathtub in the same
room on the seaside, a small water near a black water. a pensive water—I don’t think I’ll ever see the door of the sea
open and close like a disturbed phone call. and the black waves, mechanical waves jarring on purpose. flawless sea,
waves machine. I got angry at the sea! back to the bathtub, I entered it and was lifted, a disc in space.