So narrow are my precipitous stairs, to take one unconvincing step become lost the ones taken before. Is the fence that is encircled all around the only recourse from the naked immediacy?
2019
Paper, variable dimensions
Photos: Flavio Palasciano
Photos: Flavio Palasciano
Photos: Flavio Palasciano
So narrow are my precipitous stairs, to take one unconvincing step become lost the ones taken before.
Is the fence that is encircled all around the only recourse from the naked immediacy?


A gaze is picking its way about the scene. Green fungi, water spottings, two lines or maybe four splitting the base.
A sharp line inscribed in the wall- what is being hidden matters more than what can be inferred.

Walking in the lightwell, air shaft. Steps so silent as if the bottoms of your feet would become ears.
What are they trying to perceive?


Language is a skin: I rub my language against the other. It is as if I had words instead of fingers, or fingers at the tip of my words. My language trembles with desire. A blunted texture of eyes let down by what they won’t take in.
I tremble with desire of understanding as I alone speak this language, it is as if the words instead of my fingers hit a blunt corner, or fingers are at the tip of my words- can the light rub against the image, can the wall instead of words and instead of fingers have it’s texture at the tip of it’s tongue?