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SOUND UPSIDE DOWN for CHE-CHE


                                     






  For I and Anya




                                              If I was to believe nothing else really existed but me,

then I would know you are a beautiful manifestation at the top of my capacity,

intricate and incomprehensible



Your emergence I choreographed



In the Land of banana trees and forever falling leaves



          where we used to meet unpredictably on the paths in mouldy forests






INT.HOUSE OF CHAGU-SAN, KURAMA, JAPAN - NIGHT

Changu-san is sitting in the middle of his four-tatami sized house. Changu–san is an average Japanese man, he is going bold, dressed in a tracksuit made of kimono fabric embellished with traditional ornament. He is playing with the crickets he has bought from the market earlier this afternoon. Five crickets are jammed inside a bamboo cage. Changu-san is trying to feed them with mandarins. With his fat fingers he is pushing the mandarin segments through the cage bars. The cage bars are too small and squashed pieces of mandarin fall on the floor making a mess around the cage. In effort he grumbles.


CHANGU –SAN

My little cricks, such pity you cannot fly, your wings are broken, you will be here with me to die.


CRICKETS

  (Speak in squeaky cricket-like voices, repeating each other in polyphony)

Changu-san, you are a silly man; we are here to sing for you, why does your thought bring such gloom?


CHANGU –SAN

Oh silly Crickety-cricks! I was once young and foolish with joy! Like you I played in the forests with mistresses and drank from the ponds of glorious sun!


(from ‘the tale of lake biwa’, a. kushnerova)


                                                 









                                                 




THE SAND WASH photography

Эластичная песня воды
Трещит из прозрачной бездны
В камни вцепились ежи
Спрятались как мины, готовы ужалить
Жидкий голос шепчет предумышленно
shhh chhh shh chh 


The sea drools to the sound of cicadas

The cicadas are born out of cracking rock

And will forever belong to the marine plasma environment

We all belong to the marine plasma


The water burns the rock dissolving the salt, compressing it into rolls of hydration

The scorched earth tries hard to swallow the cicada’s song

It is nice, so nice…

It will remain so for many years to come



Silken skin, wet cheeks from these little splashes of joy,

Bursts of incidents

Shaping humidity into delicate formations

Encrusted into the wall of the earth




                                                                                                            Bhutan, 2017
THE INDESTRUCTABLE DROP
the 5 winds, the dance of 8 emanations,
the nagas looking for tetrons,
the melting glaciers,
within the storehouse of consciousness,
an offering of my fresh i









WAX  MAN


 




























MESSENGER IN THE RED ROOM