Being unconditional it knows more than I.
I wanted to own it, and learn a few tricks.
The beginning is difficult.
The yellow plastic hangovers in my ears and the goggles letting the dust in.
When I remove the unpleasant diaper blocking my breath, my teeth crunch.
The hand gets achy if I forget to loosen it and delegate too many thoughts for it.
The left one is of no use.
I’m a genius.
I’m not thinking about anything but don’t disturb me.
I’m observing the stone, searching for a reason for everything.
This feels necessary.
The repeated hits tell me of its effect on the stone through sound.
I strike my thumb, fuck, now it’s soft shaped; like the sculpture.
It’s all that same cellulite.
I can do nothing.
Hey stone, I love you.
Emma Jääskeläinen, 1988, Espoo