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Soaked cotton

Celestial movement

The night when even if I hold your hand, I don't have any feelings

A mouth to speak and an ear that will not hear the hand that is left behind the massive celestial

Striped snake getting closer to (0) A strange body that gets massive as you take off

Scales and new sword play

Blue tongue of scared animals

The universe is a huge tuning fork This proposition is proven in a hundred years

The window does not open

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The planet feels nothing.
I'm living?
Less...
You're not a man. I'm not a man.
Can you taste it?
You're different...
Get ready!

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That's an example our friend Leonidas did for us in his workshop. But feel free to add your own words too.

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I thought I was ready to run just on the taste of the feeling, but it was impossible. 

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I thought I was ready to run just on the taste of the feeling, but it was impossible. 

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Think different but not too much
Be different but according to such and such
Through difference do we seek joy?
Or is it through similarity that we find peace?

Just do it - but truly without thought?
How can we do something harmlessly,
Without considering consequences that could fraught.

I'm loving it

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You can place your inspiring poems under this small box.

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No one can see that I'm secretly lip-syncing underneath the mask

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listen the sound of the sea

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What are some things that you miss?

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I wish I could heart-eyes react to this

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Like selfish altruism? Kinda like giving yourself a pat on the back because you did something selfless?

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Probably not! What would you consider to be utopia?

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food

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The 'we' must be more than human. When we consider the world holistically, and no longer prioritise or extract the human from others, then 'we' might be able to create a world that is more holistically caring and attentive.

Is there anything you would consider part of your community that isn't human?

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joy

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They say your sense of self just grows with age. I'm not convinced yet.

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can you write a short poem without the letter "e"?

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What are some of your favorite things?

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There is the factor of helping each other out under the illusion of a society in order to satisfy our own desire, whether collective or indivisual.

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is there a universal notion of utopia?

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how do I understand who I really am?

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How do I unlearn impatience?

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The light is ashen -- the specific grey-white that illuminates without enthusiasm. It exposes, it does not enliven. It is overcast, casting over 20 years of memories. It touches too many objects crammed over the desk wall and floor -- scattered and broken, accrued with my over-sympathy for the emotions of unliving things.

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Same as how illusion cure us.

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Because they haven't deconstructed themselves yet. It's asking a lot, to have them first look at themselves in the mirror.

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(Childrens' song singing about how our homes are peaceful and beautiful wherever I go there nowhere like home blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah as a shape of the rooftop)

(The poet's mother literally abusing the poet verbally by shaming her about her mental illness I can't believe you're living a luxury and still whining about being depressed the only thing I'd wish at my afterlife is to be born as you or your daughter and don't have to overwork as I do now You and your sister just bloodsucking me blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah)

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So is the act of asking more important than trying to find an answer? Or in other words: what weighs more? The question or the answer?

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There is a poem by a Korean poet named Soho Lee and it was like this:

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nothing is personal

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Learn to listen.

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I see you're already asking one!

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How do I know which questions to ask?

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How can people be anti-something and not giving an alternative solution back?

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oh, home

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I think we can start by stopping the constant propaganda that drives the hyper-individualistic beliefs of 'human nature is inherently selfish, so I must always look out for number one'.

Aren't we empathetic and collective by nature? How else would we have started civilisation?

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I counted all of them, yes there is not 100.

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destroy all nationalism

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How do we get from here, to utopia?

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Clock Drawing Test -- a medical exam used by therapists and doctors to detect cognitive impairments and dementia. When patients with cognitive impairments are instructed to draw a circular clock from memory, the outcome tends to be distorted and warped.

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Home is where the heart is and my heart is full when there's a good home for those with a heart.

A beating heart needs a ribcage to protect it, and what more are we than an oversized heart.

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We don't. Plans are scams invented to sell more pocket calendars.

How else are we expected to keep track of everything that is thrown at us?

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how can we coexist better?

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I can feel it! The spring is here. My allergies are coming too - but they are welcome more than ever. I want this tickle in my nose and my throat. I want these tears, when I will be sitting under a pine tree. I will be out again. Finally!!!

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how does everyone know what they're supposed to do??

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Plant a house, build a tree. Or did I get it all wrong?
I remember my father teaching me this old song.
I think I am finally ready to settle.
But how can I if love depends on a petal?

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self-care. How does a facemask and yoga cure us of our quotidian afflictions?

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self-care. How does a facemask and yoga cure us of our quotidian afflictions?

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Walk
labor
unions
strike
punch
soup
asbestos
internal combustion
goldleaf
crowned
Caesar!!!
SALAD!!!!!!!

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"The eye does not see things but images of things that mean other things"
Italo Calvino

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An automated biotech system. Am I a cyborg?

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We stay nine months inside her cave. What tempts us out? Is that longing for life akin to a quest for truth. Relying no longer on shadow puppets to simulate reality. Wanting to see our truth, not someone else's version.

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h

o

u                  e

s

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h

o

u

e

s

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neurons synapse bloodstream blow, so fragile but secure, their synchronised with phones and lights, how to break this I don't know

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Mary opened up the can of worms.
Jelly worms.
These ones were edibles. But what about the nightmares Mia had had. Surely those worms hadn't caused her dreams.
Would it be better to be safe rather than sorry?
No live life. Mary took a bite of the jelly worm.

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Holy cow! I have a hole in my sock. It is in the middle of the winter, she thought, I will still need to make it through the rest of the season. In year 2089, wool socks are as precious as gold. When she was young, they used to be a quite common thing, people would give each other socks that are made of natural fabrics as Christmas presents, in fact, that's where she got it from. In a way, it is kind of nice to have a hole in her sock, at least she knows they can still break, not like those Nano-tech made socks that you find today, that basically never breaks. "It would be nice if they actually work forever."Because they don't, the company that produce them need to make money, they came up with the solution to plant a nano chip in the sock. the sock is programmed to break in 2 years.

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house  
                      house house house
         house house house house house 
house house house house house house house 
househouse                                     househouse
househouse                                     househouse
househouse                                     househouse
househouse                                     househouse
househouse                                     househouse
househouse                                     househouse
househouse                                     househouse
househouse         househouse       househouse
househouse         househouse       househouse
househouse         househouse       househouse
househouse         househouse       househouse
househouse         househouse       househouse

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house  
                      house house house
         house house house house house 
house house house house house house house 
househouse                                     househouse
househouse                                     househouse
househouse                                     househouse
househouse                                     househouse
househouse                                     househouse
househouse                                     househouse
househouse                                     househouse
househouse         househouse       househouse
househouse         househouse       househouse
househouse         househouse       househouse
househouse         househouse       househouse
househouse         househouse       househouse

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Dance with me. Take my clammy hand. Feel the flow of blood beneath my wet skin and let it seep into your thoughts. My sweat is in your blood, your sweat is in mine. We can beat and pulse together according to the music of our body, whole. Fall through the strobing lights before the morning shatters our world — it will sever our limbs apart and pull us to the dearth of joy. We will be chained to desks and left to work through narrow fixed portals. So dance with me once more.

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house  
                      house house house
         house house house house house 
house house house house house house house 
househouse                                     househouse
househouse                                     househouse
househouse                                     househouse
househouse                                     househouse
househouse                                     househouse
househouse                                     househouse
househouse                                     househouse
househouse         househouse       househouse
househouse         househouse       househouse
househouse         househouse       househouse
househouse         househouse       househouse
househouse         househouse       househouse

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She speaks the secrets of our minds. Unfolding, unwinding, unravelling. Revealing the dangerous machinations of the interior.

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house
house house house
house house house house house
house house house house house house house
househouse                                     househouse
househouse                                     househouse
househouse                                     househouse
househouse                                     househouse
househouse                                     househouse
househouse                                     househouse
househouse                                     househouse
househouse         househouse       househouse
househouse         househouse       househouse
househouse         househouse       househouse
househouse         househouse       househouse
househouse         househouse       househouse

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Walk
sock
talk
shock
light
cup
furry
intestin
steam
jelly

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This is an extra task we didn't include because of the limited time, but since you are fast here it is. Think of a question you would like to ask the world and place it under this box. Once the questions are there respond to whichever you feel like you have an answer to and finish your answer-post with another question creating this way short dialogues. See where this leads. Keep in mind you can stay anonymus or use a nickname and also that it's not necessary to complete all tasks. Draw if you feel like drawing. (And don't forget to take your break!)

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to stop feeling? i'd have to completely cut myself off from the circuit. loose this sense of complete interconectedness. How do i do that?

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A cocktail of the senses.
A cocktail to numb the senses
See
Smell
Hear
Taste
Touch
SSHTT
Soda
Salt
Hells Lager
Tequila
Tabasco
TTHSS

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There's this lovely field I'll stroll in from time to time behind your neighbor's farm. This old mission stands dilapidated at the center of the bricked ruins of a small village lost the to the weeds and tall grasses. During the August meteor showers, I tried climbing to the top of the mission's stout steeple to view the stars trickling down. I had never seen a soul before, yet the apparition had gotten cozied up on tiled roof. They told me there hadn't been one of these for decades, yet I watch them every year. Do the stars twinkle after death? Or is the afterlife a blank void, with the occasional falling star?

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Walk
Talk
Rock
Love
Sex
Joy
Bliss
Work
Money
House

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But maybe nothing's good. After we've peeled aware our artifice, our emptiness is freed.

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With the ladder I climbed up to the skylight.
Oh the sun it's setting outside.

Sheep say: what do you like in me more than you do in the goat.
I laughed: sheep ain't goat, I never met one before.

Feeling the breeze from the calm sea, the sheep is staring at the skyline of the city far away, she lit up a smoke.

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It is so sunny and warm right now, I cannot help but feel optimistic. I am excited, like I just met someone I really like, but of course I haven't. No matter how good the lawn across my window looks when the sun comes out, we are still in lockdown, real excitement seems to be a feeling linked only to the past and to an out of reach future. Maybe the sun is mocking me.

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Okay, definitely people do rot. Oh, I mean when dead. But some are born rotten, and when you choose who to bite you have to be smart about it. It is quite contagious, and you can lead everyone in your bowl of fruit to the same bitter end. If you choose the ripe fruit, it'll be juicy, it'll be sticky, and good. But one misstep and you're done.

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We always start from somewhere, mother's vagina enlighten us to outside of the cave.

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I would like to order please. Two red peppers on a ginger rock. OOh and don't forget two umbrellas on top.

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Without the mask we're nothing.

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Walk
spit
lick
sour
curdle
split
fizz
age
off
rot

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I wanted to talk with him - but his replies seemed distant. I started to think of the last time we saw each other - perhaps something happened, something that might have affected our friendship. I'm not sure, to be honest, I can't remember when I last saw him or what we did exactly. Maybe we're just drifting apart and thats ok but I hate being alone... Maybe I should try and fix this.

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A wet kidney creasing between the pressure of my ribs.

An intimate system that feel foreign. Are these organs mine?

For they drum and work just like before,
But their presence is no more welcome.

An interlinked chain. A complex cluster of bodily material. Breaking apart. Spirit and body no longer functioning as one.

There are cracks in my flesh that I cannot
hold cannot
hold cannot contain
can not cannot do not know what

the cracks
their getting bigger
and I can feel a stream of fluids rushing outward from within

A gut is crawling out
Acid burns open mouth
The body is yet to follow