Photographer: Jurre Verhoog (4/6)
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... seven, eight, nine, ten... I will bring you back again! Language on Banka Square. Words playing hide-and-seek. A poem on the swing. It’s whispering in the corner. For no one can sit still in the square. It’s all running, all climbing, all creating, and re-creating in children’s rhythm. As language does. The language of poets, and you. And you, sir. It all started with the Word. The Word as in creating. And where is creating more natural than in the sandpit? Wordplay is lying with words that describe the truth. Talking about the unseen, for hours, about what doesn’t exist. Words everywhere. Always. So serious. So real. But also: so playful. And what is meaning compared to the game? The word invites: Come. The word entices: Come. The word provokes: Come. because today the light sang songs in the sky songs I’d long forgotten and because the heat beat time not in the radiator pipes but against the window panes and because girls on foot and by bike danced lightly along a small strip tease of winter garments one layer less hence this party in honour of a prissy start. The playground is open. Words start to play. |