9788867490219 - The Assistants by Mousse Publishing (2 results)

Paperback. Condition: Brand New. In Stock.

Paperback. Condition: Gut. 178 p.: Ill. Ein gutes und sauberes Exemplar / A good and clean copy. - Foreword Slipping through the peak of an open door, I have come back to my city. Awake. The noise that hasn't any courage left to explode or call out by name, hovers in the air instead. It's early, before six o'clock, when a shape still gets mistaken for a sound, and the hard darkness of a room gradually lessens itself into green, blue, and cold prism. It's helpful to move in these moments when you seek out the you within you, to lay one thing upon another, and begin to compareto not get lost in curious contours and isolation. Clothes then gather up their rough assembly and recognition follows. An ear is suddenly free to stand outside like a gateway, breaking up the common shadows of rooftops, hired scaffolding, and awnings. Approaching steps become just that, no limp like a clock falling behind, just the steps of a walker out in the brief interval, branding the street with omission. Not thinking back to accomplices. But in this approach, the falling is from universe to universe. Shape gaps memory and is unevenly tied, mouthing outlines not names. Within the outline old impressions are there but muted. A shop owner rehearses the lines of a poet, a lawyer hands over documents bleached with sun, and the woman you thought was Peruvian from her accent no longer lives on the second floor. Repatriation is null here. Ring wheat like bells, raise a river like a flag, enough with night. At this hour we are held in the same custody. Slipping through the nape of a door, I have come back to my city. Awake. Noise hasn't any courage left to explode or call out my name. It's early, ten past six, when a shape still gets mistaken for a sound, and the hard darkness of a room lessens itself into green, blue, and gold prism. We must move in these moments to find the you within you, to lay one thing upon another, and begin to compareto not get lost in contour and isolation. Clothes can then gather up rough assembly and follow recognition. An ear is free to stand outside like a gateway, breaking up the common shadows of rooftop, scaffolding and awning. Not like a clock falling behind, just the steps of a walker out in the brief interval of morning, branding the street with happiness. But in this approach, the falling is from universe to universe. Shape gaps memory and is unevenly tied, mouthing outlines not names. We have all been taken into custody. A shop owner rehearses the lines of a poet, a lawyer hands over documents bleached with sun, and the woman you guessed was Chilean has moved out. Daylight brings forth its accomplices. Slipping through the peak of an open door, I come back to the city. Awake. Noise hasn't the courage left to explode or call out. It's going on six. Dark windows fail into blue, green, and gold. A poem must move to find the you within you. Lay out its assembly of clothes and let its ear trail in the street below, breaking up shadows. Daylight will always bring its prism of accomplices: the soft limp of a clock falling behind, a walker in unrestrained sun, mouthing the words "mother," "gangsters," "Los Angeles," and "forever." The falling is from universe to universe here. A shop owner rehearses the lines of a poet, a lawyer trades bleached out documents with a woman from Austria. Repatriation is null. We wait in a familiar custody. ISBN 9788867490219 Sprache: Englisch Gewicht in Gramm: 501.