by Petra Ganglbauer
| Choir: | We point to RED. |
| Speaker: | The recourse to streets. Figures. Buildings. |
| She: | We couldn't get enough of the view through the panes. Clouds of gas. Stench. And yet really corporeal. |
| Speaker: | The city is a narrative. Planning. Obsession. |
| She: | Picture mountains. Shredded lips. Eyes open wide. And the motors: head & heart & hips. |
| Speaker: | An interlocking system of organs. An association of people. An interlocking traffic system. |
| She: | We couldn't get enough of the view through the panes, but it gradually faded. We came - blown by - with rattling organs. |
| (Farther beyond, on the highway, a swarm of ringed falcons, tumbling upwards) | |
| Speaker: | Obsession of construction & deconstruction. |
| She: | In the middle you see the break. |
| She: | The city puts us in a state in which we lag far behind the elapsed time and the events taking place in it, the traffic light signals - so far that only as a dot on the horizon it... |
| Choir: | We point to RED. |
| She: | We couldn't get enough of the view through the panes, but it dissolved. And sometimes, prompted by visible and invisible sounds, we drifted - everything in us at the same time - like clouds, webs, upward... |