It's dark, I lie awake again

Performance at the Grey Space in the Middle, December 2020 "At first all I hear is SILENCE. Completely quiet like I was today, when a co-worker asked me to smile and said that he liked me better with long hair. It’s the sound of not saying what I want or feel, because I choose not to – or because I cannot. Open your mouth. Show your tongue. There you go. Swallow it down, good girl, there you go. Very good. The second sound is WATER DRIPPING. It’s the tap I need to fix. But it also is the ocean pouring through the holes in the sky, trickling down in thick drops filled with salt. And as the drops are dripping, the salt slowly erodes everything it touches, the roof of the house I live in, the walls of the building I go to work to, the concrete of the streets I walk daily and I think it also started to erode my skin. The third sound is the sound of WOOD CRACKING, every time I turn around in my damn IKEA-bed. It was a small crack at first, but now it’s widening. Since recently new things started to live inside the crack, like microbes, and dust, and spiders but also: Uncertainty. I ask myself, is this 23.5 square meter apartment on the outskirts of the city with plastic furniture really all there is? I start to play around with possibilities like I play with a box of matches while waiting in line trying to reach the debt collector because of that other letter that I never opened. Maybe I should quit my job. I could live in the country, get a small house, renovate it, have a garden, live from it."