We met virtually. Building a stage. Both using what was there. Does it make sense? Do you have fun? Why is it a stage? Are you bored ? Why is it not a stage? What do you remember from it when it has left? Do you smell your own footprints?

(by Matilde Flor Usinger and Zoë Lazos)

What is it? 

There is the annoying Straßenlaterne  infront of my kitchen’s window

It blinds me

It scans me

My eyelashes freeze

Pfffffffff.

What is it?

There is a tulip on my Fensterbrett

I bought it in order to feel  close to nature

Pfffffff.

Ich stehe starr im Straßenlicht 

Die Zehen kleben am Kachelboden

Ich sehe

Wie sich die Wogen im Weiß der Tulpe aufbäumen

Die Spinne kaut gezielt ihren Speichel im Scheinwerferlicht

Und spinnt ein Netz 

Das Blatt löst sich auf

Wird zu Feder

Zu Haut 

Zu Bühne

Zu Staub 

Ein Versprechen

Für mich

Ich schlage Stunden tot im Scheinwerferlicht.

Ich streiche stundenlang  im Scheinwerferlicht. Meine Knochen sind rot. Mein Schlüsselbein pfeift. Ich umkreise mich.

What is it? Verdammt nochmal. Ich weiß es nicht. Viel. Und nichts.

Was ist Nichts? Mein Körper ist so müde, dass er nicht mehr verhandelt mit mir. Wir laufen jetzt gemeinsam das Rechteck meiner Küche ab. Manche Fliesen sind zerkracht. Dazwischen sprießen schwarze Egel ihre Köpfe ins Scheinwerferlicht. Meine Zehen krallen sich an mich, als wär’s der letzte Lauf. Koffein peppt mich auf. Ich prolete mich selbst an. Und lach’ mich scheckig. Das Rechteck meiner Küche biegt sich leicht nach links. Mir wird schlecht. Achterbahn fahren war noch nie mein’s.

What is there?

Der Nachbar

Die Erde im Topf

Meine Haut 

Das Licht 

Lippen

Having cheese on my skin. 

Being bored by myself.

I feel so lonely

Lonely so feel

Feel lonely I fell

Fell so low

I feel so lonely low

hi from quarantine

a foot, an arm – hair that draws muddy lines over my skin – the wall infront of my nose – shadows reflect my creatures – the wall next to my eye – my back breaks

my neck my horizon – it´s shrinking – skin that wrinkles

the void lays within

the

wrinkles

of my

skin

moments of silence I find at night – silence lays within the things – ich habe ein Mooshaar auseinander gepult, da lag Stille – in-between the grün-braun intertwined hairs of moss lays the void – looking for void – my flesh softens and melts

my ______ is a creature

ich habe da drüben eine Pflanze gesehen, flauschige Krone, grüner Apfel

(still with Maite)

(Pictures taken by my friend Maite Kremke while I was laying in the marshes)

Actually, I would like to share something.

I´ve been thinking a lot about moss lately.

Covering my skin with moss.

Feeling moss´s tickling fingers on my bones.

Being surrounded by moss´s green light.

Opening my eyes in moss´s void.

Hearing moss´s murmur.

Reaching out.

Keeping still.

Still looking for moss – – – – – – – – – –

22.34

Matilde, hey

…

I was thinking of what is there.

I came to the conclusion:

Thinking about it erases what is there.

I realized:

I just erased a whole bunch of things

Out of my head

That were there.

That are there?

Oops,

Maybe they are still there

And I just have to look for them more thoroughly?

What do you think?

Also:

We just blended a picture of your face

Into a picture of my face.

Now I feel like my cheek is actually touching your nose.

It feels funny.

An attempt at touching skin during so called physical distancing.

Bääääh.

Let´s have a talk very soon, ja?

Sending you a hand full of moss.

xx, Zoë

We want to start our blog with creating a virtual image of the two characters that is going to unfold on this blog. Someone is making it, someone is reading it. We will never know the reality, because we are all behind a screen.

We decided to take the virtual space as a safe space to be personal but not to be private, with using narrative storytelling.  Go into the uncertainty of never really knowing what’s real, what’s imagination and what our rules could be.

Through this concept, we allow ourselves to meet a stranger, without any guilt or judgement.

ZOË

(by Matilde Flor Usinger)

MATILDE

(by Zoë Irini Lazos)