„Lost is not merely a space, but also a condition. Inner loneliness. The forsakenness that summons those last sparks of strength to rise. At the lowest depth lies the old beginning, waiting like a mantle for days filled with doubts. Testing whether skin and muscle remain, whether the body can still play along. Ironing out uncertainties in one's head. Concentration. Collecting the rhythm of days and nights.“
Lost # 3
The papered wall has its way with me. The plumbing betrays foreign life, the rush of strangers flushing. Through the broken mortar people murmuring, lulling me to security, until I no longer see, forget that others, something more exists. Rock myself in regular distances, back and forth, scraping the walls. The sound is almost silent, in no wall to be found except my own: lullabywall.
Text by Katharina J. Ferner / Eng. Translation: Jon Cho-Polizzi