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Painting: ink on rice paper – 140x70cm

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As a child I would always expect the next collapse,

Low blood pressure,

when blue and green inevitably descend to black,

the impossible color,

That looms behind the surface of the ordinary


You are afraid of the night but you carry the night inside you

Black beneath your skin, behind your every move,

It digests, it processes, it pursues without you its final intent


Tonight there is an earthquake, lie behind me still,

Secure my back with your chest, press your ankles on my thighs,

let's fill each other's blind spots,

And watch the long approach of the walls and ceiling


Behind a thin layer of yellow paint

There it is again,

Pressing on the cement and rebars,

The color black of things about to fall


Toes tightly clenched on the edge of the diving board,

we look down, into the obscure matter

where unfolds the greater aspect of time,

But find no place to land


We live on the trembling surface of things

Tomorrow we'll check the paint for cracks,

As you trace now with the tip of your fingers

Circles around the new defects of my skin.

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