Trying to become permeable to language, languages. Using sentences like gestures. No: using nothing, employing nothing. Just placing them, setting them against each other, letting them emerge. Poems: ticking soundtracks, listening devices. Considering whether sound and typography hold true. Holding true overall for little to be considered important. Cutting oneself open, reassembling. Wanting to understand, a touching with sentences. Finding courage in the ambiguous: concrete, not paraphrasable. Like a smell, a light value, a photo, a song. Reflecting the political and the private in each other, discursive and poetic. Saying I and meaning I. We say and we hope for us. Loving landscapes, lamenting them: highways and country roads, animals without fur. Not grasping capitalism. Singing apocalypses with puns. The surreal shimmer of office buildings, the open pores of a train station. Spots, watermarks.