first

As an inconsistent body my form is debatable, a kaleidoscopic vertex originating from a multitude of destinations; the same symptom could be applied to the world of things when bothered by human classification. Even though many stubbornly hold a firm grip on the way they are coded. Man’s written and spoken language carved in stone, the rigid way they hold their hammer and chisel leaves no space for reassessing their conditioned customs. It is too say that my unstable character seems to resonate throughout this thing termed life. Inconsistency is my flavor, my allure, even though the modern mind would rather render me the same, a stable form one can trust and build on….
As hard as it is for to people to understand each other, but I mean really understand each other, as hard it is to describe me. Am I the cash flow; an exchange of goods equal to the sum of birthright and hard sweat drenching labor? A large amount of bacteria changing from animated to inanimated environments, devouring nutrients, splitting their selves as way of reproduction? Am I a collection of species originating from all over the world, put in crates and plastics bags, available on just a couple of square meters for anyone to grab? Am I cold steal, plastics tarps and wooden boards coming together in a supportive construction of which the space I occupy is rented by the rightful merchant? The shouting of prices and clever deals ringing through the air? The grandmother dragging a rolling cart full of ingredients for future meals? The cobbles, the empty space, the trees, the sculptures we call a square? Call me “The Market”, “The Tuesday Market”, “The Blaak Market” or any other signifier coming from vernacular or formal speech, but understand that I am many and never still or quiet. I am movement, time and space. I am the process of human evolution.