FICTION

BEIRUT DYING STARS 

Walking in Beirut in the late 90s was like taking a tour of scents. If you sniffed too hard, you could detect the smells of dried blood, welding fumes and fresh vomit. Beirut smelled like the moon, a mix of fired gunpowder and lunar dust, the consequence of dying stars.

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WHAT I LEARNED FROM MY FIRST FAILED SPONGE CAKE

My life is very terribly documented. Consequently, I have no interest in collectibles. It’s a curse but also a treasured possession. I can reinvent my childhood. My soft shadow just appears from time to time but memory is a kind of fiction. A vigorous attempt to retrieve it is never close to a triumph. 

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THE FLUKIAN

PUBLISHED IN Halcyon Exhibition Transart Berlin 2016

I come from Fluke where sound no longer exists. Some time ago, a group called ‘The Noise’ tried to recoup sound but epic failure resonated. ‘The Noise’ was exterminated shortly afterward and extricated from the nation’s memory. I was only thirty years old and at that age, memory was not yet monitored. Thirty here is equivalent to three in nearby earth. We, at Fluke, like to be singular.

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I COME FROM FUTURE

LISTEN TO AUDIO STORY IN PODCAST
published in Blind Spot with interview, June 2016

I come from Future where humans are unusual and infrequent. My name is Ob20ZI in reference to Object 20ZI. In Future, names are a combination of initials and Ob’s perfect number. Everything here seems to be perfect. I walk in the streets and look in window displays to find a trace of my face.

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