feast on tableness and visceral hands

AYŞEGÜL ORUÇOĞLU / self-sacrifing/x

self-sacrificing/x
Contradictions of the Stains
-diction / ary
Traces of the no/thing
Some/thing is looking for a way
Spices are leaking like the light.
C’est génial!

What is this smell?
It is drawing a map / by crushing itself.
Quel dommage!
It screams silently.
It is getting smaller and smaller.
Now, there are only traces left behind.
It made everything even more complicated.
It caused a huge gap in the center of the nothing.

What is thinkable is also possible.
Will the slide that leads to the dark sea be the wrongest one?
-Stop, look ahead!
- You will fall from the hills to the gap.

It’s just a game x.
-Calme-toi!!
A game, a map, an experience…
The route can change with a brushstroke.
A rustle can distract all attention.
Where does the whisper come from?
I can’t feel,
I can’t hear,
I can’t touch,
I can’t move…
but why?

noise, click, rustle, whisper…
they don’t play the game by the rules.
WHAT ARE THE RULES?
THERE ARE NO RULES!
I’ve lost my way,a sound from far away is calling me.
the sound is getting closer, closer and closer…
and it gives the way to the smell of the coffee.
The coffee, mmmmm soo delicious!
it spilled, spilled around.
could this be a sign? NO!