Found Text 1 (22/06/18)

The interference of all silence. The sound of a machine, a scratch, dirt or its image. The radio at night, something - work - somewhere else is being done and it does not need to be done by me and it is being done by me. I have left my body. I am not thinking, no privilege. A flag is flying and there is welding, like smoking, like somebody else smoking. Two things are happening at once. That's all. It is an equivalence that is entirely ordinary. Reorganised suspension. Here exactly at this intersection it is the measure of me. I am - thrown. Listen. Chance is heard and I am changed. Begin again.


excerpt from: "(I am) For the Birds (2013)" - Ian White with Jimmy Robert, Any Frame Is A Thrown Voice at Camden Arts Centre, London.