The Urban Spectacle

Noah Feeding Pidgeons

City Voices V

Nouh is feeding his pigeons

At the end of the market day the streets of the shuk are covered with chunks of fruit and organic garbage – the daily mess  after the last sales have been made and the crowd is gone. Nouh has sifted through what can be used tomorrow again and stored away remaining merchandise. The men in the shuk have cleared the trash and heaped it up so that the dumpster can suck it in easily and remove the chaos. Then a stream of water will wash away Nouh’s work day.

Now, he is taking a break from the shadows of the shuk and goes outside to feed his pigeons with some remnants of the market day.

Nouh breathes the scent from the sea and welcomes his pigeons, the ancient and streetwise messengers of day and night.

The Urban Spectacle

City Voices IV

City Voices IV

Samson fallen asleep

After all those thousands of years Samson has finally got it: He can give in to Delilah’s friendly arts and skills. She will unfailingly restore his wonderful strength if he asks her to do so. She will pleasantly lull him to sleep on a comfortable divan and deal with his minor weaknesses discreetly.

And never again will she cut away seven locks from his head, but – in the blue hours of the day – she may gently massage his scalp, his neck or his feet with a well-scented oily extract. And never again will Samson have to fear his own rage. He can fall asleep innocently.

Thank you, Delilah!

The Urban Spectacle

City Perch

City Voices II


Take a seat, Yael, rest now.

Rest. Listen to the leaves

Here on Rothschild Boulevard.


Leave the grey stairs of Albuquerque behind,

Forget the cool Baltic sky

And the yellow paintings of a treacherous woman.


Breathe, Yael, and climb the steps

To the high perch.

What kind of break do you need?


Pull out the nail, Yael, which you once hammered

Into your stories. Sit

And speak to somebody


Who is near.

The Urban Spectacle

Walking through urban space is such a dreamy, surreal experience. Nothing is tangible like fields are, or forests and rivers, as in the countryside or in the wilderness. In the city, there is nothing like the path you find yourself through the unbuilt space of nature, may it be cultivated, untouched, impenetrable. In urban surroundings there is nothing like the crystal reality of outside space which is a void and which you cannot enliven. Nobody can, that is  certain. Whatever image you throw against the creations of nature, it will fall back on you. The world will stay voiceless and  real.

Whereas in a city, you walk straight into a seemingly flat world of never-ending sensations. Nothing is real, dadi da – dada dada da. Here, in the sphere of human habitations, apart from nature, people are continually creating their own space. They do so by communicating with the urban objects around them, even though these are firm, usually immovable, and mostly from wood, stone, steel or any other kind of hardened material. Walking through a city, you can throw out your thoughts like a net into the urban landscape – casting your spell even on a heaven-assailing highrise –  and you will always haul in a miraculous catch of corporal, emotive space, just for yourself to breathe in. It appears to come from the objects which people co-habitate together with you and where they create their urban livin’ rooms in an otherwise empty nature. And even if you happen to get back freezing loneliness, it’s human and it has a voice.

City Voices I

City Voices I