The Earthboundness of the signs is a delicate terrain. The previous work seeks to detect a discrepancy: the pleasure of asserting a corporeality of all signs contradicts the promise of a weightless world of imagination. Founding moment/place of these my considerations and concerns was this abandoned bus stop in Glasgow. Moments of demobilization are often helpful in anticipating the threshold of the mentioned discrepancy. The place seems to be gravitationally drawn: the house is in danger of sinking and the bus stop is crooked, a room closing in on itself, whose standstill is in an injured balance. An affective relationship between Mr. Muir and the bus stop is conceivable. Causes of pentup aggression and violence are known. Repeatedly several bus stops and telephone booths in the street were destroyed within one night. The mention is unavoidable, and the speculation that it could have been carnival happenings is unnecessary. The identification with the swan, which rotates on the shards that are kept in a treasure chest, is conceivable.
The function of stories as clarifying and invigorating means was once again anticipated: the idea and construction of the life of a person who does not push (it) into the distance but into the air has been formulated and lived out for a while. One reason for the onesided sinking of a (abandoned) bus stop in Glasgow was given: our hero had stubbornly and tirelessly tried to climb the roof of the station. This seems to have come to meet him. If this…was a sentence. A reminiscence is the object on top: Under the name plate of the hero the miniature of a stop in the middle of a deadlocked world (the regular destruction of the glass panes of the stop was observed). Does the name become more protective than the waiting?
Let’s pretend the glass has got all soft like gauze, so that we can get through. (Lewis Carroll)