They suffered. They cried. They bled. They cried on stage and behind. They cried while everyone listened. They cried so much. They cried themselves helpless. They tried to continue to talk while crying. They tried to stop crying to be able to talk. They continued to cry. They continued to talk. They continued to suffer and then it got better for a while.
Butter and summer and flies.
Skin and sheets and lies.
Outcompeting each other with sexy red panties.
Eating almonds for lunch.
Sweating. Under the armpits, on the forehead, behind the ears. On the back, on the breast, below the belly, between the legs, in the kneecalves, on the feet, between the butt cheeks.
When are you burning me, or shall I burn you first? Baby, we are on fire!
When you pee on a dog while it is peeing, how will it react?
I was just wondering if she had heard them scream. Her eyes didn’t tell. Her eyes kept every secret.
He was so intimidated by the aggressive dancing, he knew it was just meant to be fun, but he didn’t know how to react, he didn’t know how to enjoy himself. He got afraid and started to wash the cups.
These trousers have seen so many legs, these trousers have felt so many bodies.
While the answers grow week, the questions grow strong.
Lights in the wood, graves on the ground. A living lake and the trees still standing.
If nobody comes we are fine. We are just fine. We will be by ourselfes and we will continue to have fun. We have had fun before and we will be having it. We are strong and autonomous. We are determined and independent. At least we have strawberries. At least we have whipped cream. At least we have rose bubbly.
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by Levin Eichert
Memories of the light blue wallpaper in a faraway holiday lodge.
Not knowing what to do and when. Not knowing if everyone is just waiting for it to start or if the interest has faded already.
Talking about architecture is easy. Most people have opinions on it. But does it really get you anywhere?
A bruise actually is a body too shy to bleed.
And they turn to the edges trying to get free. They try to stretch the tissue until it becomes thin and translucend. They aim for a world bigger than what they imagined before. The look out for bluer skies and thicker earth. For light without compromise and a start that is a start.
Red dots. Small red dots wandering.
What is a family? What are babies?
Anything I could say to those people would just be misunderstood as a cynical comment.
Is he just afraid or is there more to it?
The moment, when is this fucking moment.
She wanted a home but she cannot find any. She wanted to stay but she keeps wandering.
Compression is for making dense.
Bellies come in different sizes. Some of them are bouncy.
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by Levin Eichert
They bring the stage back to the theatre. They bring the space back between the walls. The space needs some time to adapt. The space is instable. The space shakes. The space settles. And settles down. The space sits. Things and beings move through it. Slowly, the temperature in the theatre rises. The audience takes each other’s hands.
Thin plastic. Many layers. Brittle. Discoloured.
When one hair, just one suddenly is highly sensitive to touch. A stinging pain, when bending it.
I didn’t know there was time for this.
Eat something! Just eat!
A tree. In the middle of the stage. A tree. Budding, blooming. It’s rhythm uninfluenced by the seasons outside.
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Sand gets into narrow cracks. Narrow cracks leave sand behind.
Have you heard her big hounds howling?
A tick and a fly. A sting and a cry.
Green is the colour of my garments; green is the colour of your eyes.
Stop me or speed me (up?).
Could she be any stronger?
A bowl is a bowl. ---
Traffic lights. Shower curtains. A jam jar.
They migrate the shows to the woods. Swarms of mosquitos surround them. The wild boars change the scenography every night. Among them six children under three years old. Everyone is concerned when the wolves howl. They dig for roots and hunt for mushrooms in the intermissions. They cry a lot. They laugh a lot. They burry little pieces of wood for now reasons. The visitors still come. Frequently. They bring their own chairs with them, carrying them for miles through the dark thick woods.
White socks. White tennis socks. Thick fabric. Sweaty. Stained.
What did they screw into your toes?
Typically, the spider will wait for a warm wind. When the temperature is right and the draft is strong enough: …
Dark winged fungus gnats. Dancing their fast dance. Dying their fast death.
If you would ask me, I couldn’t refuse. I wouldn’t tell anyone.
Listen: It needs to, well it needs to—
A dog that hasn’t moved for three years is very unlikely to ever move again.
She likes it when there are smells around.
Twelve are enough for one but we need at least 15 of them.
No one of them had the courage.
A window will do. The light that shines through a single window already can make it work.
Whom to turn to? This is new.
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A dry surface. Stretching out kilometre after kilometre. Live is only possible under the stones.
A colony of white rabbits lives near the shore. They escaped the lab and keep breeding.
There was no glue to be found.
A wind, such a strong wind. Snow and rain and this wind.
No rain. No rain for ages. No rain for centuries. No rain ever again.
Take a beetle, pull its legs out. Grain it into a fine powder. Dip your tongue in it.
I ate a carrot and I liked it. The carrot was juicy and sweet. I don’t like potatoes.
How many pieces can you cut a tree into? How many frogs make a soup?
Nobody new how to do laundry. Nobody smelled of sweat.
Could you hand me the parking ticket?
How to end an earthquake. How to pack a bag.
And their nostrils filled up. It filled them up like a plug.
The stage stands in a small town. Geese sit on the roof. The gentle waves of a deep water softly lick the facade. A boat drives back and forth from the stage to an island far out at sea. This is where the actors live. This is where they die.
If you lick my ankle, I will kiss your knee pit. I will bite your eyelid, if you break my nose.
Under these circumstances, the entry must be denied.
Have you ever heard of something that stupid?
Neatly arranged, one stone lies next to another. The old women collected them all. The old woman loves them all. One day, she will give them to her grandchildren and they won’t know what to do with them.
His puke was thick and tangy.
Actually, the stones are not neatly arranged. The old woman has them in every corner of her small flat. In little plastic bags, in cardboard boxes, wrapped in newspaper or just rolling around.
A shadow stands on the stage. The shadow speaks. The shadow tilts its head. The shadow stumbles and falls. The shadow hurt its nose. The shadow sits there alone. The light slowly turns from dark green to light pink. The pink becomes a drawing that clings to the walls. The pink sinks into the walls until all light is gone. The shadow dreams in the dark.
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The stage slowly lights up. Several semi-translucent gauze curtains in different shades of yellow and orange rise, one after another. This takes its time. Onstage sits a clown covered in yoghurt. Slowly, the stage fills with cats.
A face smiling. A warm and long smile. A soft smile.
Green grass growing.
A frog. Moist and cold. – A bee. Dry and furry.
A distant smell of turpentine.
A thin scar. A straight line. Starting at the thigh, running all the way down to the ankle.
Wine gums. Live savers. Jelly babies. Fruit gums. Jawbreakers. Hard boiled bonbons. Sweetened condensed milk.
The stage stays dark for many years. No one enters. No one leaves. The one person in the audience looks away. It’s an almost complete silence. The chairs upholstery darkens. If there was more going on, you could call it waiting. The sound guy died a long time ago.
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