Performance

River. … my words floating northwards : man an boat, bird and flower swim to you, swim or sink into the ground. Here they build a world down in the river. ( My, my, mine)

Save our Souls. See our house fall apart, see our desert’s unlit stars. The storm is louder than your voice. Still their hope is in our hands.

Run, run for me, yet the mist hides the landmark.
Can we call the whole thing of, and let the world rest on my pillow, with me.

Queen with paper crown. Umbria, Italy.

Swimmers. Some time ago the ghost town lived in her, and in the sea she found her friend.

….

Ways down the shore , time in your eyes, our hope is the sea, the only now is us. (Aarhus /Denmark)

Bureau for Desinformation (Martin-Gropius Bau, Berlin)

“Truth in theatre is always on the move. It is always possible to start again. In life this is myth, we ourselves can never go back on anything. New leaves never turn, clocks never go back, we can never have a second chance. In the theatre, the slate is wiped clean all the time. In everyday life, “if” is a fiction, in the theatre “if” is an experiment. In everyday life, “if” is an evasion, in the theatre “if” is the truth.” (P. Brook “The empty space”)

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