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The Compagnia dell’Imbuto Confuso is performing “Becoming Anselmo / The right tool”
What matters is the right tool.Once the right tool is in hand, everything else follows— as if on its own.
The half-rounded vault is built of brick. Behind one of the bricks, I’ve hidden my papers.
I see myself carefully loosening the brick, then pulling it free— the one I had first chipped loose with a small, pointed hammer.
What matters is the right tool.Once the right tool is in hand, everything else follows— as if on its own.
I see my father— who was not my father— sitting at his worktable.
Outside, it is very hot and bright; inside the study, cool and dark.
He works in the dark. He says:
What matters is the right tool.Once the right tool is in hand, everything else follows— as if on its own.
By written by me/TC, music by the common aesthetic subconscious, produced by our collective desiresThe Compagnia dell’Imbuto Confuso is performing “Becoming Anselmo / The right tool”
What matters is the right tool.Once the right tool is in hand, everything else follows— as if on its own.
The half-rounded vault is built of brick. Behind one of the bricks, I’ve hidden my papers.
I see myself carefully loosening the brick, then pulling it free— the one I had first chipped loose with a small, pointed hammer.
What matters is the right tool.Once the right tool is in hand, everything else follows— as if on its own.
I see my father— who was not my father— sitting at his worktable.
Outside, it is very hot and bright; inside the study, cool and dark.
He works in the dark. He says:
What matters is the right tool.Once the right tool is in hand, everything else follows— as if on its own.