We break into the library. We find translations of Ginsberg’s works. Everything is right, we are lying in the beds of Europe, again, the world at our feet, and yet “love is not perfect”, we “imagine the future” and weep*.
You walk around the stage in flip-flops, as if the air around you had another density
you want to embrace her – and you embrace yourself instead
the alarm goes on again
* Allen Ginsberg, “Europe! Europe!”
We break into the library. We find translations of Ginsberg’s works. Everything is right, we are lying in the beds of Europe, again, the world at our feet, and yet “love is not perfect”, we “imagine the future” and weep*.
You walk around the stage in flip-flops, as if the air around you had another density
you want to embrace her – and you embrace yourself instead
the alarm goes on again
* Allen Ginsberg, “Europe! Europe!”