How can one convey a complete upheaval of comfort and routine, a loss of language and comprehension and direction? Is it possible to put into words the magic of discovering a new place for the first time? So have we, the Bard in Berlin cohort, experienced a complete cycle of disorientation and reorientation in moving
With you I share this little piece of self, for the temporality of days in which our presence lacks and lingers, slithers and soothes, smiles in remembrance—a game: I said, ‘One plus one is two.’ You said, ‘I promise you.’ And this self I share with you, I share with none other.
I yield, To the morning haze that engulfs my spirits; I yield. For Mother Nature calls, My body withdraws; I am within and without. Serenity. I know not why My slumbers break with the sunrise. My inner and outer worlds meddle and wed, And I am one. The birds
Somewhere, In the root of the stomach, It is born. In the gut, It unfolds. You walk. It spins around your neck, It swims from head to toe, And you swoon. You talk. It knocks you back and forth. It’s your mouth that moves, Another voice That’s coming through.