'Train Windows', Anton Hirschfeld, 2011. Acrylic on paper 100 x 65 cm.
came through sliding doors, as a carried out of bag, not
narrowed shrieks and chafes of up motive carts. couple
ran kicks in put of wheels nestier, lit in mini crossing's
hailing of mpv waited not very long of dreich, as sat at
bag's synthetic oud. lost in quick gesture of pressed of
somehow found left want want crisps, someone asking
what thought of it rushed splattered blast of night cool.
diminished line from tapped brow's though of couldn't
sleep, mosquito continuously beaded bites, in the night
and consecutive anecdata to chosed not to point-action
seen waried prod of lugs, sections below the watch that
the strap connects to, in paused feening for faved as sat
womp of chair's vinyl, hand out from under tech-jersey
of a jacket, tore of aluminum. slippy simmered build of
erve tail. rocked like a puccho, having barred spirals to
having start of nose's itch, while rest of face's practise
d reasons why it won't work, heard taught to put a choose
when/how to accept want, as rapid blinked to few turns
of ceiling fan's pushed imbrium. a moved about a door's
cot slowed in fixed look, issue of pogo skitty with other
characters, all at several feet away. a staffer stroked-off
board's cbt, unaware the missed steps in returning from
19th high school reunion on empty bilevel train. within
seconds, stood near of wish to skate neens some time to
worn tensity smiled at chair, by walk-through's attached
part of treated post's bottle of seamed blue glass. rocked
small flea bites on its bottom oval in five fingers, caved
on swifter steps, by waiters' averted gazes, evaded stair
rods' arrival of one from the first time at the group, who
said on larp, a role as triperrance for those efforts to feel
no one from whom needed to escape. turned back, either
end of shelf's lock and lock containers, upturned palmed
instance of shirasu crock filed abreast of footing in can't
think what color the noren was, its rummaging, an apish
shadow grew in stages smaller, staggered seizes at some
gotten places. a hand locked, shook and reversed, moons
faded except for a thumb's frigid surges. mind bobbed at
where a wish of oneself to where near bound up edge of
a binary star's jetted arms, not heard its light left it years
ago. varying paces took from a heater's air cut in twisted
clangs, to somnial thin cut on a saucer edge's loosed tiny
lid, of could try enough to want it to cohere. stickied end
stuck around white only in sidelongs as room's passings
by, one's shoulders and back wiggled quarter of a more
than one occasions' finger traps' incorrectly pulled what
it takes. stridence coarsened in bunches of obento picks
stuffed between boy-faced rice balls with molded kikos.
couple steps looked, to a hillocked garbage in receptacle
chuds of don't call back telling of to start today scattered
in clasped at ringing, like astuces around right eye to the
orpimented instance with containers of cake pops, push-
upable pinwheel and sundae triffs. bristled at the moved
itself fall, diagonally disappeared in a moment, virtually
no friction at camote chip bags' plinks like some cy cuts
closed in as above, dulled funassyi revolved on a string.
stood by coordination to get the drag is becoming piece,
project room floor's supplying of seeming oxycontin on
monobloc chair. walked with head down, in the having
to get atleast once a day's, questioning that nothing one
does is worth while. moved by window's sky sheeted in
another reflected bumaba film, a pipe convecting lessed
nodes of heating, as in heart drummed to where in mind
dropped to liver area, dim raspings a loned toggle loop's
nothing to weigh it down. turned full behind, the flexure
of a sock puppet, purported occasions giving free advice
to abrupt spirit struggs. held bucking in headset of fewer
people's made out evp's periodic tfw muting of everyone
who've nothing elsed, along the gone missing of keys all
the time, weren't where put by bedside's pen. somewhere
out of view, said listened longest a momentarily like of a
needle skipped gaps at record's end. impassive faces of a
scant audience stepped back, as rolled back runnings set
about sunk down in a chair. a folded newspaper's noting
some bit further from what they're given to perceive, as
knees pulled making oneself smaller, in sat on end of an
upsale shelf. flare free leds scaled subsonic rolled nutted
sonny cone on upper arm, excerpted from mun gum like
micro-slip itches, from told accidentally against straight
edge of gallery wall's shouldn't have to persuade anyone
in you're worth the time. below throat's incipient taste of
heavy rain and shied aside synthetic in toilet roll cover as
crinolined doll, a kind of inanition from not eating actual
aliment all day, fingers rigid spread distance between the
counters coursed like ruddy soliton of a finger over a lens.
couldn't cry, along a though it well insulated, zeroidal fare
in damp condensated top's mini-pleats pinned in the back.
head backed, tugged swallows, as of last week's oft what
they say and adjacent restroom's sudden started from like
obe's rushes of discolored arms of invacare frame's small
part with being pulled and heavily creased misadjusts of
backs of held hand patterns, separate from short of wash
counter, along began otiosed rising infrasound, surfaced
as to be run through, little detectable pocket of pressure
under an eye's couldn't fit it in anything like single draft
of losing face. an older woman picking about glass and
aluminum door, peered with fell and scared rising again
goes of thompson hat, along breathlessness about shard
of a line with huai dan, not as slighting as what of some
part that thinks blew it. hovered a charger wire at outlet
syncs collapsing, up from trailed subsurface of couldn't
hate tries of reaching out to sum1, adjudged missing of
a part turns to end-ups like has to go back ied plates, at
glass by ridge of eyebrows. a male with a gele took off,
retreated of played dial tone, retained oblique idleness
about mouth's going for help. breath jiggled flank's dull
thudded two fold spoon rests, didn't want the turned set
back of a heel's shouldn't be ignores a binch of slanting
hunger, blinked and dropped of lids not going to eat, as
raised, like about to pass and come back of added loscil
over everything, along angled gävlebocken's stayed for
now, from would-be-odds-of-over-interference. saw as
far as window chamber's set of selfie in front of a write
board mirror, positioned to reflect store logo, the sway
of towelled like phragmite shoots, dirtied as ain't even
morn sky. stood, pinching of a breath off of junctional
site's irritative seep to knees. one in grasps in elasticity
of flex shower mirror, one on lvt floor's caustic instant
on to erratic steps. two-fifths down an aisle, a cosmetic
tutorial screen of a viewer/user flitted. its summing up
poses' to rely on, as overly of some nombreux felt is is
unbearable. as though someone had just brushed up on
the other side's wsup with deleting text thread filled up
in bites carpal kaomoji, rakes foundation on variegated
pores, saggened out, doesn't count as nobody listening.
'Lost in Yellow', Anton Hirschfeld, 2011. Acrylic on paper 65 x 50 cm.
cbt — can't be touched (slang)
shirasu — whitebait, an immature variety of fish (Japanese)
kiko — be happy, smiling face
bumaba — to go down, descend but also to alight (Tagalog)
tfw — that feeling when (slang)
mun gum — allergy (Cantonese)
obe — out of body experience
huai dan — bad egg (Cantonese)
ied — improvised explosive device
loscil — refers to innerness, loneliness in numerology
'Etude', Anton Hirschfeld, 2013. Mixed media on paper 65 x 38 cm.
LOUISE BAK is the author of Syzygy (DC Books), Tulpa (Coach House Books) Gingko Kitchen (Coach House Books) and emeighty (Letters Bookshop). She is the co-host of Sex City, Toronto's only radio show focused on intersections between sexuality and culture. Her performance work has appeared in various videos, including Crimes of the Heart, Partial Selves and Buffalo Death Mask. Louise also curates and hosts a salon series called The Box, which encourages communication across literary and artistic borders.
ANTON HIRSCHFELD, born in 1992, lives and works in Paris.
Comments
Louise Bak writes with an
Louise Bak writes with an intensity which glistens. The internality in thought expression is, for me, strident, calm and yet with edge that creates an element of disequilibrium. Bak's writing is not easy to absorb initially, however, her use of language in structure and rhythm, inclusive of wording form, is truly excellent.
Louise Bak, thank you for sharing.
that was interesting
That was interesting.
Terrific. Thanks for sharing
Terrific. Thanks for sharing.
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