A pulse to pause, the next lunar eclipse
What I am trying to do is almost impossible, like stroking the moon gently.
It was neither hot nor cold, it was just right for walking in an unknown place.
Even the wooden pillars for punishment had to be there in the landscape.
Exquisit
It has been repaired and modified —with an emphasis on preserving the heritage— and is open to the public.
My longing to go there is similar to my desire for production. The front half of my body distinctly peels off, almost resembling a violent feeling towards someone. That feeling has the same pulse as a person living and dying.
Hairs stand on end.
I went to Sachsenhausen concentration camp on the outskirts of Berlin. And the back half of my body went astray.
Turning over the asphalt of the same road, again, this year.