Photo Paweł Czerwiński
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Nicolas Gattig
I have tried and a thousand nos. I cannot make
myself simple, cannot help this need
for impression
the facts speak for themselves
the chaos of tension and morning freshness
the telephones that disappoint us, the secret
conversations of plants
“it is something else, something entirely different”
as if time were a soft little animal
a thing you can squeeze
to distraction
I have angered almost everyone
–my neighbors at the dynamite factory–
but this glass-bottomed airplane
has ancient devices
to photograph new beginnings
and feast on a single smile
a lounge full of glam and panache, a genius
to think of
Turgenev
Nicolas Gattig
I have tried and a thousand nos. I cannot make
myself simple, cannot help this need
for impression
the facts speak for themselves
the chaos of tension and morning freshness
the telephones that disappoint us, the secret
conversations of plants
“it is something else, something entirely different”
as if time were a soft little animal
a thing you can squeeze
to distraction
I have angered almost everyone
–my neighbors at the dynamite factory–
but this glass-bottomed airplane
has ancient devices
to photograph new beginnings
and feast on a single smile
a lounge full of glam and panache, a genius
to think of
Turgenev