There is a place that cries and screams
That crumples and darkens my soul.
How to find a place that exists
How to find me as a child.
Where do I exist, where do I find me
Where does my body find a line?
My perceptions of me in my mind?
I have a jumbled mess that
I would like to iron, to straighten, enlarge, play
A way to live to be with me
All day
I am me, but in me, it is through my shadow that I find me.
Thoughts
Idea of exhaustion, after exhaustion, I can only be what I am, as I cannot functionally do anything else. Connections with Baush, Grotowski? I need to read more on Grotowski need to find a book!
In a performance am I subject or object? Is form an object? Is play a form? If play is subject then it is an ideal, an idea of play, it is not play. Play then is object, but you cannot touch it? If it is neither subject or object then what is it?
Lyrical as a mean to find lightness and play. Lyrical as a mean to find naivety?
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