The scar. The wound. Skin and bone knit together, pulled tight by twine. Look there, at the river, winding its course up the skull, binding the hemispheres. Tropic of Cancer. What is this obscure clarity that threatens to inundate my sight?
The river flowing in wood, pulled up, pulled open, labia spread wide. I lose my step in this darkness; such things one sees only at night, walking alone through woods. I am arrested by a light frozen in the surface of a pond that reveals nothing of its depths. Just the crack, just the break, just the caw shattering the taciturn way.
I feel the sharp point of these mysteries rather than unravel them, and let them turn and fold deep within the skull, the gut.
Carry forth into the tenebrous expanse.
Patrick Faurot for Krâwa
Berlin, Munich, Ingolstadt, Hildesheim, Landsberg am Lech / Germany
Prague / Czech Republic
Pniewo / Poland
2016 - 2017