on my last visit to berlin i pick up a book that is published in 1968. the shop keeper wants to sell me a newer, less yellowed copy but i want exactly that book: that book has already existed six years before i was born. and now i am holding it in my very own hands. how can that be? where was i during those six years? this book is like a gap in perception to me. the cat bites her tail: what is time? i want to make time visible, tangeable. not in a symbolic way but in a direct physical way. that's why i use yellowing disintegrating paper and fading colours. i'm pointing towards that reality of death and birth ...
