Felix Riemann, Marco Spörle, Tobias Willmann
20 march - 22 april
Fotos: Flavio Palasciano
Scene from Omega Point Restaurant
Here nothing unfolds or at least not much.
Time doesn’t process,
It is not that kind of establishment.
Yet here we are at closing time.
The very large neon outside,
Flickers S.O.S. towards the horizon,
But nobody registers
It means something diﬀerent every time:
Stimulate Our Synapses.
Shaken Or Stirred? "Stasis!“,
The universe has developed a taste for consciousness,
hat most acquired taste. It is a dish, they say,
Best served relatively warm, ideally,
At somewhere around 300 kelvins.
But the local specialty is memories. Pickled and
Expire they do not, but their quality sort of
Starts to shit. Now they seem stretched,
Diluted into thin red.
This red, it is wafer-thin.
For your entertainment, a screen in the back.
he revolution is being televised. Beyond the screen
Here, all possibilities are always pure acedia.
No hands pick up these utensils, only eyes
Wieland Rambke & Lian Rangkuty