L: Rhythmically setting the pendulum swinging and just following along, controlled, in harmony. You, straight into my arms and legs, into my chest, forwards and onwards. The embracing and the total; the opposite of the linear. Two poles to another.

G: I can carry you, but only up to a point. You can carry me, but only up to a point, and that point we share. It has been transferred to the point that divides certain spaces, to how the living room borders on the art room.

L: We call the product “the third” just to be able to call it something, but, in fact, it is about something very indefinable.

G: We create a space and after a while our presence is beginning to put its mark on the room: furniture is moved about, rubbish, smells of sweat, detergent and deodorant. But we don’t live in this room; we live somewhere else.

L: There is something we have to do.

G: Without structures there is nothing to overcome, and nothing to venture. It enables a kind disappearing. Defining something so accurately that we no longer are able to be part of it.

L: Free time is dreams, muscles, blood. All necessary to be awake, to be able to awake.


G: In one’s work, everything is broken up in order to be produced anew. One believes that one receives things, but everything is actually produced based on a continuous giving.


G: Instead of separating work from leisure it’s more like exhausting and recuperating.

L: I wish the difference was more pronounced, to achieve a more distinct feeling in the two states. The more the everyday is affected, the more important becomes its isolation. Seen from the outside, they probably don’t look very different at all; one second is two beats, parallel movements back and forth.

G: The dust is increasingly taking over our forms. The more we restructure and intervene, the more entangled in the dust we become. But we don’t stop, we don’t brush it off.

L: But maybe it’s already too late by then; maybe there is no difference between you and the rug. Perhaps you won’t see me when I’m curled up in a shelter. In the end, you forget. You eat your food and soon I’m just part of something else. Skin among skin. Death and dust.