Inertia of a stethoscope swinging from an almond tree

Old Works (06-2012) The white of this place always hurts. The floor is white, the ceiling, the doors. White-sheet-ghosts wander all along the corridor, looking really busy – but I know they really aren’t. I myself am dressed in white, which would be unusual if I weren’t here – a white that confuses non-white-dressed people, and spurs them to ask …

Jenny Holzer and I

I found her on a bench in Venice. This one, I think.  I touched the marble and read these words twice. And I knew somebody, somewhere, had thought about my vital situation in that right moment and had carved every letter. I WAS the particular person ALL THAT was written for. I was anyone. I’ve been trying… trying to cut …