There was an enviousness when I was watching your footages especially about the use of the spoken English language, or what I assume a native speaker's embodied source of the pieces of a language that has this evidential credit in a global society that gives you a survival ball.
And while undoing the seducing potential of using body and sound in coherence, in an artistic context it makes the first part of the footage even more virtuous and some part of me even more envy. I wonder what is the score, I wanna know your source of enjoyment and the level of hardworking.
I imagined tiny triggers as forces of change and continuity in a playful score partially repeated, partially visceral, partially out of space. The incoherence of your movement body and your voicing body made your sound-image body an imitation of the obvious encounter of parts of different coherences. Like when you pick apples in a near-Stockholm farm and listen to Derrida and receiving thoughts on a morning chat on a political issue.
And the range of your artistic space has the feeling of self-prescribed limitation of using your full potential in any sense you might imagine, still, from this seemingly limited place you open up into a dimension of unknown potentials. There is some kind of erotic with the tension between what you allow to sense for the viewer or the listener and where you are at when performing. And I had the desire to allow some of the input I use in my Matango bar into my body and see what I become.