Fragment:

The moment I start writing
I know the shelf against the wall in the hallway
will soon become a sofa that you sit on
I know you will listen to my voice

It starts with a space,
scraped clean, peeled off, dismantled
exposed to the eye of the erring photographer

An interspace, empty,
between what was and what is to be

...

A body lies on the floor in the middle of the room
the white hands brush the frame
the canvas becomes taut

The prints are folded in stacks
next to each other, on a plastic sheet
on each stack, a note
with two written letters
An image is expanded
appears in space
yellow, blue, pink and green