dunja

Deep on the Surface

The song is still echoing in an imaginary inside space of the glass, the one that was left on the floor, there beside the airways where our thoughts were floating, floating and clashing and something smashing, one against another, but we didn’t mind those silent explosions, destruction is sometimes opening new spaces, where even echo must be born out of something new, in spite of a contradiction within its definition, but that’s caused by a new form which can’t leave the content out of its touch, the silence is a shape of moments driven by an ear… but we knew, the glass knew it was all cause of “I”-s, many “I”-s collected in two eyes, but your eyes maybe didn’t know, maybe they saw just their own image in my pupils, the surface was frozen and maybe yours too, and that’s why we didn’t have to know who we were, which of the eyes belonged to which of the “I”-s, your hand felt like my own and your leg also, body maybe knows when you don’t disturb its moves, and we were too far away to let it be disturbed, maybe too lazy, maybe absent, maybe curious, maybe all that together, plus taken by a magic influence of the water, it was in the glass with such a still surface that it was almost invisible and just an aggregate state itself wasn’t enough to prove any difference between it and the air, or it and the magic spell we wanted to find, and we thought: maybe we just have to remember, and maybe the water might help us, it’s always circling, and the surface was still still, like your eyes, nothing was moving except the hands holding the glass and the images behind the window, and for the first time the metro wasn’t shaking, and somehow wasn’t disturbing surfaces of the eyes, water and “I”-s, everything happened on the surface, but it felt deeper than ever.

Deutschland, 2003