Love to the world

The statement of opening is a love of/to the world. Under the rays of an East Berlin sunrise eclipse, cars hiss by the window down below, the movement of shade turns yellow and white in repetitive strains of suppressed desire.  The distance is always close, but the closer you get the more lavish the details push themselves unto your face. The gesture is different, the kindness on the outside, the soul has run away to better places. Our mission is to bring her back to the belly that spat her out. Is this a culture or is at a movement of thought or, even deeper, a forgetfulness of the dasein of being human? Has it become difficult to just be there, in the moment, the intensity of spontaneous laughter, the touchdown of a physical embrace. The cosmopolitan attraction, as in the gathering of spirits, is working on the world’s behalf to reinforce the music of the convivial moment. Always there to love you, always there to be gone with the next. The love of the world is a movement, not one that can be contained, though taking part in it is an essential tool in this ya revolution. Different than the previous ones, this one deals with movement itself.