translated by Nikoleta Telidi
A point–geometrically defined–is a structure with no dimensions. Without height, length, width, depth. Without weight. So a point, every point, is unwavering. If you could stand vertically on top of it, you could move to the rhythm of the Earth’s orbit. Even if this had changed, it wouldn’t matter.
In the corner you have chosen to sleep, you define every night a point like this. You define it with the tip of your left forefinger. And then you try to squeeze the four dimensions of yourself–length, height, width, weight of the time that has stopped–exactly on this point. None of your nights are unwavering, though. None of them obeys the Euclidean geometry. On the contrary, all but all of them are suffering from its nothingness.
Photo: A.P., Bonn, January 2014
