1. I am here. Je suis ici. Ich bin hier. This is sentence number 4 in piece number 1. Am I more here now than in «I am here» before? For whom? Just now you are together with me, more than I. May be I never remind this sentence number 9. May be I never re-mind this place, where you read this sentence number 10. May be I am somewhere in your mind.
2. You know: this is not her language. She is here. She is somebody in my mind. This looks like Stille Post. This isn't locked up. We are meant to translate her pieces. Has she forgotten her pieces? Is she right now in an aeroplane for instance? Where am I when I am here? How many places can be here and locked together? Take place in the sentence. Let it be your locomotive. Change places. You are not your chains and pains. Leave the chain of ideas and events and even the mountains. Be your own mountain. Leave the pain of leaving. Postpone yourself. Be left surplus. Be your own leaf.
3. Believe me. I am here. I am written down. I find my way by sound. She throws her way in the syllable. She sympathises with symmetry, not with symbolism. She seems to be symbiotic with semiotics. She sews words putting them into rhymes. The ear is the areaway. May be you will read this in an aeroplane.
4. She throws her weight into the channel. She makes her way passing the tunnel of sense step by step through a sense of hearing, passing the ears, entering the head. She says: open the head. Can you hear me? Please open these words.
5. Where am I when I am here, and who and to whom? Is this dedicated? Is this dedicated to Issa Samb for instance pied à pied? Peu à peu? Piece for piece? Is this entering Issa Samb's head under his white hat? Is this here at all? Should there be skin? Are there any proofs of existence? Any Tools? Ears? Can you bear that I am here in my way? Can a subject own a way? A word? A language? A question?
6. Would there be any tools to prove that I am here, if I would be here besides that I am written down? Skin? Breath? Touch? Can you hear me? Can you reach me? What is a subject? Let's face the snake. The snake bites itself in its tail. The sword cuts the snake into pieces. The word for the uncut snake is Eden. The word for the pieces is world. You are many pieces in many places. You can't remember every piece you are and every place you cross.
7. With what am I connected when I am here with words? With your words? Soul? lmagination? Can these words reach your body? Can your body reach your soul? Language is the sword between body and soul like the bridge like the long tongue of the bear. Language is the red carpet world dances on, is swallowed by and is starting up. Language is a swallow-dive up and down between hell and sky. Language is the bird upon your left shoulder you really should care about and start with into reality. Language is a real.
Für Quereinsteiger: Zur Hauptseite von Urs Engeler Editor