NORD. For the love of beer and bricks.
PARQUET. Waxed and buffed, the parquet is the house’s mirror.
PLACE. Non-places don’t exist. There are plots, rooms, territories, sites; then again there are terrains, locations, areas, places, spaces and - my favourites - green fields and sandy deserts.
RINSING. New water running onto dishes.
ROUBAIX. Walls of bricks for houses and factories. Walls of bricks to live and work in.
RUBBLE. My way of thinking doesn’t like rubble, but I am always touched by what it once was. Then there comes the time when, like an archaeologist, I am henceforth beneath the rubble. This is the time for clearing it away.
RUG. In place, suspended or hanging from a window ledge, the rug is ready for flight, unburdened by apartment dust and crumbs.
SAND. Big grains, medium-sized grains and little grains in my shoes. Dust in my socks.
SEOUL. A river, mountains. Appartment blocks and little wooden houses. Churches, temples and giant screens. Cars and yet more cars. Seoul polluted. And neons, neons, neons, Seoul lit up.
SIESTA. The meal is over, this is not a time for work.
SISYPHUS. When I grow up, I’ll help Sisyphus find rest.
SNOW. On the streets and the pavements, beneath the wheels and the shoes, the snow is dirty.
SPONGE. The sponge is my most useful tool. Dry and hard or wet and soft, soaked in water and often saturated with dirt, a sponge is also very delicate.
STAY The happiness of days in one place.
SURFACES. Natural, they are always beautiful.
SUR-SOLS. Floors are not always beautiful, so I imagine sur-sols (over-floors).