Selected poems
How do I not commit suicide in front of a mirror and disappear to reappear in the sea where a big boat would wait for me with the lights on?
The Doctrine of Photography
A morning that lasts for eternity – mostly in spring, in summer, in a city that was not eastern, nor western.
Prose Poems from „The Dice Cup”
It seemed that the clouds were immense heads of old men sitting at a table, and that someone was bringing them a white bird adorned with its feathers.
Five Short Stories by Lydia Davis
We are united, he and I, though strangers, against the two women in front of us talking so steadily and audibly across the aisle to each other. Bad manners.
Melanholiskais raksturs
Melanholiskais raksturs savā piezīmju burtnīcā ar īpašu aizrautību fiksē tās atziņas, kas par laikmeta iezīmi padara viņa nevarību izvēlēties jaunu mīlestības objektu.
A Child is Something Else Again
A child delivers you from death.
W. G. Sebald: The last interview
Without memories there wouldn't be any writing: the specific weight an image or phrase needs to get across to the reader can only come from things remembered - not from yesterday but from a long time ago.
The Altergorithm
Timotheus Vermeulen
The difference between ‘what if’ and ‘as if’ scenarios, and what contemporary art has to do with it.
Awareness is critique
No need to play it safe with poetry.
Thomas Bernhard, the Alienator
„If, I thought, I want new storm windows to replace the old ones on my house which are almost totally rotted, I have to accept the prize, and so I had decided to take the Wildgans Prize...”
