Casa wabi

Oaxaca, Mexico



Architect : Tadao Ando

You look dead when we look at you, but you re not, I know, I know you re not, I saw you change, you separate us from the rest of the world, you raise so high without falling, you look immortal, I see you everywhere, are you following me, how can you be on the top of a skyscraper in Manhattan, laying around the worldwide shanty town and in the head of the best architects, you look dead, but you re not, I know, I know you re not, I saw you moving ones, you failed, you cracked, you cracked and you failed, you’re so acceptable and unbearable, the ultimate goodness and the worth disease of this world, your trace has marked us all, some deeper than others.
One day I will have a collection of concrete things, you might be part of it.


I come and go away again, I m living here and there at the same time, where do I go next, I m not asking my self this question, it comes after, once it s been done already, it s not easier to find the answer, I want to experience spaces, what a disease we have, us, people of the conquest of personal appropriation, everything is made ours, look what I found, we are all hunters, look where I was, we are all conquerors, I felt like if it was mine, I still do now, I like it so much, I want to own it, to be assimilated to it, this and I are together, photography lies in this direction, v always lies, collectors, object and memories, incase we forget, the concrete remind us, what would we do without all of it, would we even exist, maybe not for the same reality, without all the concrete, where would we live, we want to be protected, I want to feel safe, shelter, above my head, would you end up falling, it seems safe, it looks strong, concrete, it will last I m sure, they make it last until it falls, surprising, why here it never falls, in the other side it keeps crumbling, the soil is different, the air too, the wind more than anything, it s him again, him that stops the wind from flowing, concrete, you again, let the wind speak, he lives between us all, has a name I am sure, I spoke to him once, at night, he spoke to me back not so long ago, had time to travel the world, came back, spoke in my hear, quiet loud, before leaving again, but we knew each other already, was it friendly then, like two friends, side by side, walking, like creation and frustration, don t trap me, says the wind.