For Christoph Marthaler

The National Library. Winter time. One o’clock p.m. There is a lightning in the silence. I’m hiding behind a sheet of paper. Made in Germany some time around 1200. Matthew the Evangelist is depicted at his desk, scroll in hand, brush between the fingers. Johannes is taking a break. Hand on forehead. Thinking. Christoph and I are making conformal maps which we want to apply unto predictions. Infinity as a set in relation to exegetic hermeneutics as a set is either attractive, repellant, or indifferent. But as neither Christoph, nor I know anything about math, we have our own ways of studying sequences converging to the boundary along bubble trees. Complex analysis. While we declare that when infinity ceases to be attracting, the set gets weird, we watch the film Harold and Maude. On our iphones. Behind the manuscripts. He, embodying Matthew. Eyes fixing on the pristine scroll and Maude’s breasts. I, embodying Johannes. Ears recalling Schubert’s striking key. Getting vibrations from Harold’s gut. Das ist schön. We wander. Wir singen. “I like you Harold.” “I like you Maude.”


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