Layers of time, layers of matter, layers of sounds, layers of the body.
Statics of space implies the absence of movement. But can a movement of the space itself exist if no one fills it?
A tree becomes water, water becomes me, a temporary space turns into a space of timelessnessand
I am able to see myself in the eyes of others. So I am not alone here. Sounds crystallize into breath, breathing
becomes the melody of the body. I want to stand still, to stop breathing, to be unnoticed.
But I feel like someone is always near, someone who is watching.
Layer by layer I distance myself.
Matter becomes more.
The body dissolves. I froze, I watch and I'm finally alone.
Plunging layer by layer I manage to find a direction that leads me to a point.
Where we are one
We are the center
We are the body
we are the water
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The small space I am in now does not allow me to breathe, does not allow me to move. I feel how it holds me, layer by layer. I need to learn how to live in it, how to become its partner.
Step by step, in a circle, infinitely long, until we become a friends. Layer upon layer, I become the wind, I become the breath.
My body is no longer constrained, my space is filled with the depth of my movement.
'Water equals time and provides beauty with its double.'
Water becomes a reflection of the surrounding reality, a reflection of me. The fixed room acquires movement, and I acquire statics. I obey the water. Water that cleans layer after layer. The water that is in perpetual motion, while I am monumentally static. I want to stop seeing myself, I want to have no reflection, I want the water to stop being me. I feel cleanup, layer by layer. My movement is synchronized with water, my body loses its shape. And I become the space, the space of another person.
