intimacy meets brutality; family meets politics; fantasy meets mythologies;
children meets career; meat meets metal.
Hormones in the air, sweat on the wall, the physical bond.
We feed from life, from sorrow, from potatoes and piroga.
We feed from the body, love and the fights.
The neighbours brings us the rumours.
We are container minders, Yoko Ono writes in Water Talk (1967)
and Bruce Lee answers:
Empty your mind, be formless, shapeless — like water.
Now you put water in a cup, it becomes the cup;
You put water into a bottle it becomes the bottle;
You put it in a teapot it becomes the teapot.
Now water can flow or it can crash.
Be water, my friend.
The water carries the fragments. The loose parts. The ideas. The material.
Plastic, stones, wood, scattered porcelain - everything grained to sand.
You need water to keep the clay moist, to feed your plants to make a mark with your brush.
We pee our hormones into the lake, the sweat we produce becomes a salty sea.
We wash our children with milk and tears.
To keep your house clean you need loads of water.
The metal is always in control.
We cling on to a chunk of wood floating by or getting a rest on a little island.
When the big wave comes you can choose to dive it.
When the big wave comes you can choose to surf it.
When the big wave comes you can choose to break it.
/ Ulrika Segerberg 2018