In the corner of the bathroom, up to the right – the paper stripped away to plaster, and the plaster darkened from an old leak, and then the plaster too stripped away. A breeze block of some sort, and it too darkened. It’ll have to be repaired. New plaster for the corner, and then painted over.
I’m being watched from that corner, that’s what I imagine. Watched – from the wall, and from the other side of the wall. The mystery of the flat is concentrated there. The flat, falling through time, falling through me, speaks to me there in long, slow words that will not finish.
Apocalypse – when will you see things are they are? When will you be seen as you are? There before the corner. There, seen by the corner’s eye. Seen, unseen. Seen by what forgets you, and does not see.
Lars Iyer's Blog 