But no spring is forever there where it is, nor is the course of its waters eternal Ma nessuna fonte rimane per sempre là dove si trova, né il corso delle sue acque è eterno
I The lifetime of things is so short, yet workmen are determinedly demolishing in order to build a multiplex. Diggers at work, indescribable quantities of builders’ materials: me, I quickly slip on my shoes each morning to escape the impending collapse and run away. The crutch of my slacks is speechless, mute prone to tiredness overcome. This has been a time of safety up to now, I tell myself, but I find it hard to comprehend and hard to stay in one position for long. The cause is uncertain, the effect completely lacking, yet every day I stay in a time that resists, in an unsought story which endangers no floors, invents nothing.
CPQ Summer 2012