Felipe Dulzaides

I was never in the GDR.
I saw familiar buildings, familiar walls, the crisp early winter, the falling leaves and its
simulacrum of fall.
I saw a little of the inside of the skin of a place.
The row of wine corks and beer mats tells me that at the end
of everything
the warm light is there for us because we slept soundly in the dark night.
We drew circles on mirrors to see that everything repeated and repeated.

July, 2024