Baltic ellipse

With gratitude,
To Yannis and Anna Daxne

Rositten, Rezitsa, Rezekne - the buzzing of a bee is replaced by a sting - the tip hurts, penetrates the skin - you can’t get it out without a doctor: a replacement for a simple whistle. The loop of sound is the freeway of language—the lazy gait of history. Age is dialect, progress is displacement, rushing vowels are bushy consonants, mind is fog, strength is brevity, ellipsis is god. Rezitsa, Rezekne, Rositten. Rezekne, Rositten, Rezitsa. Rositten, Rezitsa, Rezekne. Throwing names of candies in your mouth - sweetness - a pleasant pastime - don’t swallow ahead of time - you’ll choke! Rezekne. Latgale statue. Metaphor. Main square. Space. Supermarket. Middle class. Autumn evening in a modest town.

Little America, little Holland, mini Las Vegas: sweet licking of earlobes: rough tongue, menthol smell. Fumbling with a ridiculous pen for familiar concepts, the Grand Canyon in my head - pebbles on the grass. Acting on a statue.

-Greatness, Life, Death, Justice, God, Beauty, Genius.

-Sit down and tie your shoelaces.

One word echoes throughout the city. Thirst for communication from the heaviness and narrowness of space. Flattening, eternity in a blade of grass. Handel all over the street - crazy round eyes. A city where it's nice to go crazy.

Tired of my own whims,
Space seems to lift the burden
greatness, limited here
the features of Main Street; a Time
looks with a certain coldness in the bones
on the dial of a colonial shop,
in whose depths everything that could produce
our world: from a telescope to a pin.

-Labdien.

-Ardieva.

Brief drama.

Rezekne is an ellipse, a blooming void, a space the size of a little finger.

Rezekne - Twin Peaks without polyethylene, Brezhnev's pedantry of Boston, gondolas of Venice, Brodskness injected into a vein, Vienna on the palm.