Video installation

"We go from one bed to the next
in this journey,
life's journey.
The newborn, the afflicted,
the dying,
the lover and the dreamer alike:
they arrived and they will depart by bed,
we have all arrived and we will all depart
on this train, on this boat, down this
river which is common
to all
life,
which is shared
by each and every death.
Love makes the earth
a bed for blooming, mired in blood.
The fullness of September, its clarity
shaken out
in sheets by the skyful,
drying.
The sea
groans,
battered
by the
green
vault
of the
abyss,
surging in white clothes, and black.

O sea, intimidating bed,
death and life
writhing endlessly,
and savage air and spray:
fish sleep deep inside you,
and the night,
and whales.
In you rest
the celestial, centrifugal
ashes of dying meteors.
You throb, sea, with life of everything
that sleeps within you,
you build up and tear down
the ever-renewed bride's bed of dreams.

Lightning flashes suddenly
in two eyes of pure forget-me-not
and an ivory or apple profile.
It shows you the way
to soft sheets
like bright banners, white lilies,
down which we roll
to the final embrace.
Then death
slips into bed with us
with his spotted hands
and iodine tongue.
He raises a finger
as long as a long road
showing us to the shore,
the gateway to our dying pain."

*Poem by Pablo Neruda