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By Peter Markus

Peter Markus makes delusion out of dust, a river, fish. through parceling his obsessions so obsessively, he creates a never-before-seen type of dust, a brand new species of fish, a river that flows backwards to its resource: all of this rendered in a language that's uniquely and privately his own.

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I coated up that rusted nail. Stones that glide There are stones alongside this river’s muddy financial institution that don't sink. They flow, even though in us brothers’ arms, those stones, they consider heavy to us brothers—feel the best way that we think stones should still consider: tough, strong, issues made up of the dust to be out over the dust thrown. Throw them into the river, although, and those stones develop into boats that drift on best of the river. Us brothers, we don’t comprehend what to think after we see a specific thing like this ensue. This hasn’t regularly been the best way with us brothers and stones. there has been a time while, us brothers, we consider stones that used to sink. We’d throw them up and above and into the river and watch them disappear. within the darkness of the river we’d pay attention those stones pass plunk and plunk. perhaps now it’s the river and never the stones. probably it’s that the river is extra dust than it truly is water now, and the stones that we're throwing aren’t rather floating. probably what those stones are doing is, they're simply sitting there the way in which that stones occasionally take a seat within the dust: sit down, and take a seat, for years, for hundreds of years, till us brothers come strolling up and alongside the river’s muddy shore and succeed in down with our muddy boy fingers to select the stones up from the dust. We decide the stones up from the dust in order that we will throw them, as a way to see a stone in flight, can stand and watch this factor with none wings upward push above this earth. We devour dust Us brothers, we saved achieving down, with our arms, down into the dust. We stored on with our arms attaining down, into the dust, and after we did, us brothers, we stored on pulling up dust. yet then as soon as, after we reached with our fingers down into the dust, us brothers, we pulled up woman. We pulled woman up, out of the dust, till lady grew to become a tree. Us brothers, up this woman tree, up, us brothers, we climbed. We climbed up this lady tree that was lady, this tree that was dust, until eventually us brothers acquired as much as this tree’s most sensible. Up right here, on the most sensible of this tree, us brothers, out of tree branches and tree leaves, the entire colour of dust, we made us a nest. within the sky above our heads, there has been a cloud up there within the form of a chook. This cloud, it used to be so formed like how a fowl is formed that it turned, it changed into, it was once: a fowl. This poultry, it flew over to the place, us brothers, we have been status up gazing with our heads lifted as much as see. while this chicken that used to be a cloud used to be shut sufficient for us to the touch it, us brothers, we reached out with our fingers to the touch it. We touched it. We touched this fowl that was a cloud as soon as formed within the form of a chicken, and once we did, this fowl, it all started making a song. Then, this chook, this poultry that, it was once making a song, then it and its making a song, it flew away. whilst it got here again, this fowl, a short while later, like a superb fowl that often comes again, its fowl mouth was once full of dust. This chicken, with its fowl mouth stuffed up with dust, this chicken, it wasn’t making a song. What this poultry did, although it wasn’t a poultry making a song to us brothers anymore, it flew again up with reference to us brothers above us our boy heads.

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