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The recipe of the bird with a silver beak


On a rainy day, bury in eggshells under five doses of wax and three of cement, your tears of fatigue.


Let it fossilize over a low heat for a few years.


Draw the path to your destination with your fossils and then devour it with your eyes.


Let it digest in a large grey rock while you learn to let go.


Listen to the wisdom emanating from the underground song of the beak of prehistoric automatons and study it.


Cut out your mistakes with a lyre and tame them like knucklebones.


Remove them from your spine which you will expose to the rain.


Watch your wet skeleton become more pointed, with steel hooks to catch invisible treasures.


Contemplate your new animality and put it on feathered heels that will take you as high as your wings.


Embrace your new powers with humility and take flight over the path you had drawn.


And when your claws have grown enough, you will take time to share your experience on a silvery stained-glass.


Text by Charline Kirch for Expo156

Image credit : Archaeopteryx lithographica (fossil bird) by James St. John


Game Ending

I’m in the game ending, there is not much left to destroy.

Planets banging like billiard balls and trees falling like bowling skittles.
Gladiator wounds hidden under makeup. Glittery polish on white sand dunes. Fluorescent colors causing blindness. Boulevards punctuated by wrestlers statues.

Sandmen sleeping on purple smoke clouds. Flowering lightnings reflected on war armor.

Masks to keep breathing the smell of strawberries. Music that mixes with the sound of firecrackers. Attractions in flames and overheated carousels. Blinking blue robotic eyes, nobody to look at them.

Text by @charlinekirch for @expo156
Image credit : @xeniavalevsky

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