I want to be
A golden leaf
To fly and whirl, fragile with the flowing wind
Without losing my brightness
I look around in wonder
Body language between two people
A brick turns into dust
How am I related to the space, the others and time?
What kind of space exists between another and myself?
Drawings grow slowly under my fingers
Like a photograph reveals itself in a dark room’s sink
I “shape” pencil lines until they are tangible
Present in the space
In performance I am present
Even though I have left the room
In this way I seek contact with the other and the space around me
Can I share my gleam and wonder
Shimmering like a piece of gold leaf?