I am holding a bundle of twigs; there’s about 20 of them. I picked up these twigs outside; they were laying everywhere under the trees. They are all the same size, almost identical but also different; none of these twigs repeat themselves. I hold them as I hold a specific amount of time, time which holds a story from my recent past. Is it possible to stretch backward resurrecting memories which were recorded in my body? I plan to write them in the space with my dancing body. The past will suck me in for  5 minutes, no more and no less, and these 5 minutes could be an eternity. How different could be constructed these 5 minutes of memories? I am ready to start my story: 

    I place the twigs one by one on the floor, simultaneously saying Khlebnikov’s verses while moving away with the repetitive rhythmical pace:


The stream of time…….On stone dreams…..The rush of streams …….On time’s stones…


Until I met the wall, the wall is my usual partner; this is my liminal space. Drawing patterns after pattern, I love this feeling of exhausted monotonous repetitions. Slow-moving from one side to another sentence-like and then returning with laughing into the wall…

© 2023 by Avy K Productions

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