Looking for an alibi for his telescopic teeth – which, while pairing the bases of skull glasses, reached towards the sun like flowers – he fell into fatal naïveté, with no way of justifying himself. No warbly daydreaming here. So all the hinting went on its way. He stayed in his bunk, close to the wall. At the neighbor’s, on a portable tv-radio they were showing a studio made in a t-shirt that is being split apart by a pumped up male chest, a female spider with nipples is released from the chest directly into a mystery sewn in light (the shadows give him an advantage, he precedes them – a spitting image of a mug – and he returns there where it was not.) Stitches with gut flavouring, a metaphor of holes. The panic-stricken character had passed this way. Hatched from bundles, always seen from the back, as: not always a fragment, always-strips, a spider builds the worst houses. The neighbor’s radio-TV houses a videophone and a doorphone. It has a walkie-talkie to the center of the film, there is no film without a walkie-talkie; he dictates: “there is no film without a walkie-talkie”. But he lost it, lost it not having budged from the bed. The walkie-talkie is the most secret fellowship, you have to squeeze it to say something. The most secret walkie-talkie fertilizes. It will pop up suddenly with its purulent deposits, somewhere between human armpits. And what oil will drive such engine? The feelers of a fern flower which so enjoys solitude and dance? Although living at a vast distance, he greets all, because he does not leave the sheets. The studio emits a vision of globe shaved down to its very first station: patient boredom, naked boredom, which remembers the youngest. It begins — more or less — where the wall does. The beginning of the picture is the wall, on which a younger enamored character drew the shadow of a lover who left her. That is how the shadow got back there, where it hadn’t been. And it favours the state of panic in the collective role, similar to stripes on pajamas and functional, as a tun for live gold and a single fruit.
text: Andrzej Szpindler