to tred ( notes towards performance)

as earth



His feet enter to the earth.

Breathing to some core of the surface.

His spine moulds to the floor as though he might crumble. His world seems to dissolve as though he might disappear with the smoke that fills the dirty stage.

We do not see his eyes and will never know his scent.

There is almost fire in such dense fog.

To appear to disappear into a world his own which we are so eager to join.

Then he departs. The scene is cleared.


It is too hot now, and there is a thick carpet on the walls, almost as though it could suffocate, she paces and his smoke has left thick stains in her white hair. They will never met and she can no longer raise her arms. A heavy waltz alone. To brush her hair. Hair spray and cheap perfume; she still applies the lipstick.

purity; white, clinical, unfeeling. it is cold, but neutral.

what would happen when we merge all we see of these worlds and allow them to pass. To become a state which we cannot describe ourselves; yet somehow this becomes something known.

The bag. The Void. The weight. The light the heavy; the sense that we are truly such a container as this. There are bags all over the floor and somehow they are becoming identities.

She wears nothing; like when the business man began to understand and helped somehow to ease us into nurturing the neccessity for such disbelief. as fluid; as form so fresh; that we can no longer see her soul; yet she could be perfect; if she were to have a face.

~ by beatricejarvis on January 17, 2013.

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