The text is part of the performance The Endless Island of Absence - Mystery of Happiness

Up to the feet you’ve flown. Entangled from top to bottom. First with your eyes, then gasping for air, directed against the light, floating here. And I speak only a few words so that you will listen. Only to get away a bit from the silence – towards you. Are you now?

I’m just saying. When a dream bursts, you land on your feet. You find support, searching for balance, a middle on the horizon. Having looked around skilfully, hair patted down and muscles pre-checked, it is quite fine again for a while. I’m just saying.

The happiness we love asks for the next dance. Do like I do, then you, too, will … Go along, so that others will also know it. Light in hemispheres, intentionally lagging behind the beat, somnambulistic, with trembling fingers, cutting nose, and lost eyes. Peculiarly tempting. Yes, your happiness which I love.

I sketch certain patterns with a pencil. You will see that. I only draw in the sun at the end. You can have your say, then you’ll see it. It is easy to feel the right moment. Sometimes the thought besets me that you do not want to be with me. Then I shake my body, want to disunite and get out of myself in order to make room for someone else.

Here one is able to walk a few steps, in agreement with time. Nothing contradicts itself. Every movement, every word is accorded meaning, endowed with hope. That’s my sign – now, now. ‘Yes’ is followed by an exclamation mark, ‘no’ by a comma, and declarative sentences end with full stops. No countermovement after movement, but assertion; after cause no effect, but wish fulfilment. Everything belongs to you as long as you don’t tear up the path.

Step by step. Head in the dark, dazed by nothingness, unentrapped. Along here, go on there, out over there, upwards. I'm hanging underneath on a thin rope, crouching for the dream. Leaving the soft, cool ground, I regret any unnecessary effort, or am searching the sides.

You will not understand that. You follow me, unnerved, no steps behind, no step ahead – kept curious by a shadow sometimes, and cautious interjections. That it is night at night. And stars are clear. Become totally independent for moments of happiness and the room we are leaving. This has always been our home, now we look into each other's eyes.

We stay on our mainland and take off our protective masks. Braving the wind, escaped from the big waves of a previous life, conscious of the visions of a generation, we are wandering along our body of thought centimetre by centimetre – our feet are stable, our knees trained: do not hit trees with stones. Do not decorate views with fences. Don't!

More lip-reading and teeth-showing. More small-time. Carrying more dust in one's shoes … We trek to the utmost boundary to get a hold. For the sake of certainty. Arm in arm, so finite. Everything around us lying fallow, and we are modest with lowered gazes. Only drops are fit for a wake-up call then. Reliable and sensible. One does not have to be a tender leaf in order to give way – ground-like.

That’s what it does to me. Meanings and explanations are held up to me, rarely spread out before me, and I try to swing through on tiptoe. Head high, wrapped in heights. My ear is my challenge, I’m quietly singing along misunderstood words. It’ always been like that. Like that only for myself. Or suddenly and for a short while, I am convinced by quick glances, controlled hands, and wide smiles. Until you ask me whether we’re home again.

Mostly, rain interrupts the walk. Having rolled the day before me up to the correct inclination, admitted in a certain rhythm (with one eye lifted), I digress, left and right, feeling with my arms, wrestling down, sucking up – committed to an unfounded cheerfulness. So much in doing. For every place next to me I have already thought about something. And then only the rain sometimes changes the walk again, announced and incidental, as if conceived for me.

Behind every batting of an eyelid lurks a ready-made undertaking to be obeyed until the bones hurt and the voices become alienated. And then you drive everything away. You sit down in a middle and praise the morning. For now.

The familiar faces always fall short. You get in line in front of me for the jump to the side. You say: steered in circles, it can only go forwards. Just stay careful and determined. And you notice: the step taken swings you into life, with every speed, and few climaxes – surrounded by innumerable mirror images of matured moments, without you. You are there. There you are. Here you are.