eight brooches out of ebony, enamelled copper, broken tiles tied together with pearl silk developed to a poem about tying.
a dialogue between ani and jakop.
bounding - tying - hanging on a silky thread - black and hard like ebony
bright colours - split and broken surfaces
[21: 54: 14] ani: bound nettle at the shackle? stick with a small thorn
at the front all limb bonded together - rammed on each other -
chain you - oh me - no
head and collar uncomfortable gagged and nebulised eyes
hanging from the ceiling in a squeezy feeling
marks on the skin - everything sin
[21: 56: 38] jakop: ooo - meekly?
[21: 58: 03] ani: woven in rope it needed a hatchet to grope
in order to free himself to be all alone
[22: 03: 38] jakop: a gun must be my own