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Architect / Illustrator / PhD candidate in Architectural Design / Teaching Fellow at The Bartlett School of Architecture, UCL & Chelsea College of Arts, UAL / liangifi_at_gmail_dot_com / Unless stated otherwise, all work on this blog is made by Ifigeneia Liangi, Athens, 1988.

04 November 2010

In our times. Whose are these times anyway?

“No one ever knew his screams were travelling under his skin.
Imprisoned in a glassed box beneath the sea,
His mood always mute under the tides.
One day, in order that someone might hear, he made his heart beat faster
That day the universe was passing by
And proposed to him a walk with poetry, saying
«Turn your body twelve degrees towards the sunken sky
You’ll see a rope bound to the moon.
If you pull your imaginations hard enough, the tide should guide you
To the other dream,
The one that’s always somewhere else»
But the man only had a glimpse through two razors that cut in pieces
The edge between the sky and the sea.
And he saw the burning walls,
The crying windows,
The hurt streets
And the abandoned light.
That day, they say he cried in his transparent box.
But maybe he didn’t.
How can you tell through the water. ”