I like putting on a coat I haven’t worn in a long time, searching in its
pockets for fragments of a past life. To recall people, places, moods,
seasons – and myself. My pockets are full of things: keys, coins, tickets,
notes, but mostly they are filled with grains of sand, threads, fragments
of grass or other hard-to-define materials – the dust of events that
settles at the bottom. Some I throw away immediately, others I leave for
a while. I walk with fragments of situations and places into other places
and times of day.
For example, I climb on a rock to take from it an imprint of a distinctly
shaped surface. A form whose shape stems from the accumulated
sediment of events, which initially were loose and granular, but which
time has transformed into a solid yet ever-changing shape. From the
rock, I try to recreate the appearances of days, to obtain a form in which
conversations, situations, the atmosphere of a certain period and place
are now frozen.
Or I move to a new flat. I pack my life in cardboard boxes and move it
somewhere else. I wake up almost certain that there is a window
opposite the bed, then I walk down the corridor towards a door that is
not there at all. I am still walking around the flat I no longer live in.
Another time, walking along the river, I notice a stone with a striking
shape – a fragment of a distant place that, dragged and bumped against
other stones, has changed its surroundings and appearance, becoming
more and more distinct, a fragment of a place that this river has just
brought here.
Sometimes, lying down, I think about the places I left and the flats I
have passed through. I then begin to feel something that has long
settled inside of me, something almost permanent that could even be
put inside a pocket.

Photo Credit: Lucas Hirsch, Düsseldorf