I look into your eye. Like a spotlight on my soul, it makes me feel completely undressed in front of myself. I see sparks of fire bursting out. This is the friction of the metal on the grindstone... I am sharpening my knife when I look at you. Into whose flesh will this knife fall? We both are getting hurt while the metal is being forged. There’s no control upon pain — it just happens, as a part of a natural process of seeing each other. If we see, we touch, if we touch, the metal melts, the knife sharpens. I am showing you how the sparks are being born and how they die in the darkness — do you want to take a look with me?

i woke up with my laptop under my knee. my teddy bear lied nearby. somehow strange that they mixed with me on the bedsheet. sleeping with a laptop feels unwelcoming, i always try to move it further from me, but it reminds me on a work i should finish. i remove my leg and see a wet spot on a cold aluminum. maybe expensive machine is not supposed to be used like that? it brings me back to the trip in nepal, where i couldn’t leave my laptop and my partner was carrying it for me up to annapurna base camp. these machines are supposed to be kept in a beautifully organized space with sexy furniture, but i somehow like to sleep and hike with them, and don’t use the case. yesterday i saw wine splashing on a carpet covered with audio cables, life was happening in its imperfect form. maybe sleeping together is not so bad.

One. Ni. Tri. Four. Go. Shest’. Seven. Hachi. Devyat’. Ten. Counting together to ten in three languages before we will hide from each other. We can hide really well — we know how we search, and we know many unpredictable places. By hiding I was entering places that I didn’t expect to enter, and took forms that I didn’t expect to take. We were supposed to find each other in the end — otherwise it’s not interesting. But you don’t hide, you disappear. Raz. Two. Mittsu. Chetyre. Five. Roku. Sem’. Eight. Kyu. Desyat’.

sеx is a performative act, but is it about form? our bodies are (were) covered in clothes, located in a room, in a building, in a state, our skin is cleaned with a manufactured soap, we ate some food at the restaurant, maybe there’s an electric light placing shadows on us, or music is playing from speakers, we drank some wine, we said some words, we are here. maybe we are focused on a form of our bodies, are we sеxy enough, are we beautiful, are we normal? is it okay to have a body like i do? how do i look like? why do you want me? but coming to an act itself, do we really take all of that to the moment or there’s something else happening? first i see your face. i see your emotion. i know your biggest fear and desire now. it’s written on your face, your family story. but after that i close my eyes. i don’t see anything. sеx becomes a formless act, just for a while. maybe, when we talk, it comes to the form again. we even may try to perform. to form something. is it always about gender, politics, markets? or maybe there’s still a formless space in between structures, ideologies, beliefs, even desires and fears? observer and performer are melting together, nobody’s watching anymore, but everyone does.

what does it mean to have time? can we really own it? this resource is so desirable. sometimes it feels like nothingness — i’m just observing the waves on the sea surface. do i own time at this moment? the surface is constantly changing, my thoughts are constantly following, i perceive the change, so it looks like time flows. or maybe it’s just me who flows through time. i observe changes — in the environment, in my body, filling the empty space with words. i have my own body rhythm. how many changes can i produce in the certain amount of time? how can i consume this time effectively? we are imagining amounts of time, but they are subjective — how much time do you need to read a book thoughtfully? what if you’re tired? what if you’re 31, what if 75? these amounts will be different. we suggest imaginary volumes when we plan, we place them on a graphic structure. we place our body capacity, our age, our sleep, our hunger on a timeline, we project our desires on a schedule, always considering other layers, like weather report, urban structure, economic development, political situation. we have a very emotional relationship with time. it’s mostly about processes and objects we want to own. it’s not about owning time itself, it’s about fulfilling desires. so do we really have time?

i am walking at a slow pace because my toe has had a minor surgery. my rhythm is slowed down and moving around the city becomes a different experience for me. those crossroads that i managed to cross completely within the time allotted by the traffic light are no longer accessible. the speed of my movement opens a new angle of interaction with the environment which was designed taking into account the “usual” human speed. i make more stops and observe more of the reality around me. this text was written during my stops in front of the traffic lights. i remind myself of a character in a computer game where walking seems too slow and you always want to use the acceleration command. i can't accelerate myself. time has changed its usual meaning.

the edge of the glass table pierces into your arms peremptorily. you try to focus on the dish, but an unpleasant dent on your skin is a constant reminder of the imperfection of your body. it is soft, it is not adapted to be an extension of this ideal glass surface. the food on the table is just a decoration: it may not be meant to be eaten. food that is eaten leaves traces: crumbs, stains, fingerprints, spilled liquids. the glass shows all the details of the imperfect process. glass table is an attempt to control the physicality, it is a clean surface of the operating table, there should be nothing superfluous. don’t spend a lot of time there, it does not invite you to a conversation. the perfect robot eats the perfect food in a perfect cleanliness. and the elbows must hang down so as not to leave traces of the fat of your skin.

soap bubbles, one mass formed by small particles. they were supposed to be rounded, but by being together, they start to change their forms, stretching, forming spaces between each other, sticking, pushing, always trying to find a perfect place for themselves. they compile a soft and comfortable form by not being perfectly circular on their own. is it comfortable for them? is comfort about stability and duration of existence? by being together they become a more lifelong form rather than being perfectly rounded separately. they cover their bodies with each other and start to permeate each other, making common boundaries in between. they can barely be separated by now, each of the bubbles became something else.