Galerie Quynh presents
an attack on the senses, a spectacular, a word of warning.
A Great Plague
of serene terror,
of willed innocence and candied Errors.
Of cows and rats and pigs and pigeons and machines
that fail to gauge us,
and Uncle Huệ.
Things balanced on heads at some given time
but first titles that transmute as poetry, or rather erratic prose
cut-stitched to stifle the glitches of reality
or waking dreams – or live visions?
Whatever crude cacophony
An outside world – the vulgar menace
Plays mental tennis with our inner strength
just for the thrill, that weird pleasure
Squandering time (depending on the weather)
Take baby steps since the bridge self-shatters
and the boat self-sinks and the boat self-sinks
And certain drugs don’t require direct administration.
Enter at your peril
And hold fast to stir still:
Through the Door stands a Dream
of the Noon variety.
– (re)arrangement by Thái Hà; words appropriated from Suzanne Brøgger, Adam Gopnik, Nguyễn–Hoàng Quyên, Quynh Pham, David Rieff, and the artist.