having to deal with the business of making buildings, I try to picture my projects at their most extreme possiblities. mostly, the most ridiculous... perhaps covering an entire project in a net --- (making an aviary for birds. with the house inside it.) the hot chocolate exploded in the microwave oven. fascinating to see it blow up and freeze frame in the process. virutally, throwing the limits of the liquid to it's extreme capacity. if and only if it could be built! all that is left are the markings, which looks a bit like some barnett neuman drawing... if I squinted..now, that is much easier to translate...

It takes me everywhere. Through cities, neighborhoods and alleys. It takes me to the future yet it suddently brings back the past. Words, sentences and meanings. The end of the sentence, a new beginning. New words, sentences and meanings. It underlines. It erases. It forms shapes and thoughts. Reality and imagination. Everyday real~fictional~stories. I keep going. But now I realize that I can only go on for few miles. Where is the next Ink~Station?

keep moving even if it's only in your head. move around. explore old concepts. read old books. open those old doors. not into the past. but into the present. driving the present into other presents that weren't evident before.

She strolls through the urban aisle with her swollen, sweat-stained back against the sun shopping for nothing in particular. She stopped before a picture window in awe wondering how incredibly beautiful and cold people are, motionless before a million eyes, displaying themselves for purchase.
She pushed onwards, always against the flow, making a right on Third Avenue. "This is pretty." she said to her Other, pulling the bright yellow garment from the trash bin, holding it against the ruins of her breasts with a smile full of despair. "Yes, it's very pretty." said her Other. "You will have to try it on." "I will... One day...." She slung it over the side of her shopping cart, now serving a more basic function of vehicular consumerism, smiling anxiously at the blur of pedestrians who refuse to see her; a rare time that she felt happiness and no one noticed.

Tic Tac Tic Tac Tic Tac Tic Tac Tic Tac Tic Tac Tic Tac Tic Tac Tic Tac Tic Tac Tic Tac Tic Tac Tic Tac Tic Tac Tic Tac Tic Tac Tic Tac

Can you hear it? It is the sound of time passing by. Where? In front of me. Behind me. Cogito ergo sum was once said. I am. I do not only think. I also write my thoughts down. Anywhere and everywhere. On a sheet, on a notebook, on toilet paper. I write my thoughts therefore I am. Time is passing by. It just said hallo to me with a deep intense smile. I love time. My friend and my enemy. I spend half of my time thinking. I spend the other half writing my thoughts, while time passes again by me. A goodbye. Til the next half!

deadlines deadlines deadlines. only I see it finished. no one else seems to know what is going on! makes me laugh! keeps the mystery alive! and some excitement!

Am I the right or the left? Or am I an equation of the two? The document states: "The other side of the Right is Logic. The other side of the Left is Imagination. The interaction of these opposing forces creates the signature we call Humanity."

On a planet where the 'surface' defines the movement of Human Reality, It is the Other Half, the primordial beauty and wisdom rarely seen and experienced in our global culture (not necessarily the institutions that commercialize the lack of our halves---you already know what they are). When the time comes, our halves will meet. That will be an interesting day indeed.