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  • "Dear Mr Oelze,

    As you’ll see, I’m going on with the human inventory, that the institution kindly gave me to available. As thin as tissue paper, blue and specifically cut. The "evil" takes on grotesque connotations. Having to count skulls with failure mechanisms inside, numbers themselves become irrational, we have dozens of them.Great views! Through the grain of the landscape, you can descry things in their domestic anxiety.Clinical cases are held together by magic squares signs and names. No osmose between the exterior and the interior. I did not grow vain through the rubble for not imagine that any surface have basements and secret currents.Moderns affixed their indolence, their moods in the frame. The range of different passages, offered to the writer's coquetry. They've given me a few hours free. Walking between spores and precipices, I saw Ronne absorbed in a light blue cloud. Sitting in a corner, he didn't seem to give me account. Shadows intertwined, though he was indifferent. Who did want to be the shadow of whom?! In pair, the weight of life may appear lighter, but when you realize that the pair of legs and all that remains intact what remain is hating the quadrupeds and the history that stripped us fur, crown, and feathers."



    "Caro signor Oelze
    Come vedrà sto procedendo con l’inventario umano che gentilmente l’istituto mi mette a disposizione. Carta sottile come velina, celeste e tagliata appositamente. Il “male” assume connotati grotteschi. Dovendo contare i teschi che serbano meccanismi guasti, i numeri stessi diventano irrazionali, ne abbiamo a decine. Ottime vedute! Attraverso la grana del paesaggio, si scorgono le cose nella loro inquietudine domestica. I casi clinici sono trattenuti da quadri magici, segni e nomi. Non c’è osmosi tra l’esterno e l’interno. Non sono cresciuto invano fra le macerie per non immaginare che ogni superficie abbia scantinati e correnti segrete. I moderni affissano le proprie indolenze, gli umori in cornicette. Il ventaglio di svariati varchi offerto alla civetteria dello scrittore. Mi hanno concesso qualche ora libera. Passeggiando fra spore e precipizi, ho visto Rönne assorto in una nuvola azzurra. Seduto in un angolo, non sembrava darmi conto. Le ombre s’intrecciavano, eppure lui era indifferente. Chi voleva essere l’ombra di chi?! In due il peso di un’esistenza potrebbe apparire più leggero, ma quando ci si accorge che il paio di gambe è rimasto intatto non rimane che odiare i quadrupedi e la storia che ci ha denudati di pelliccia, corona, e piumaggio"




    Text and music by Andrea Kantos
    Foto di Otto Umbehr ,1928 Unheimliche Strasse I
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