Over the last few years mysteriously charged little poems have been appearing all over the city of Amsterdam. See one of them and you might easily dismiss it as the spontaneous gesture of someone with a spray can. ‘Nuclear Polynesia’, say. But see a few more of them – they’re easily recognisable from the hastily painted letters and the signature, ‘Laser 3.14’ – and you quickly realise that this is work worth reading.
I came across one recently in Old West that really caught my attention. It was: ‘This contraption called life.’ It’s quite something to suggest that life is ‘a machine or device that appears strange or unnecessarily complicated, and often badly made or unsafe’ (New Oxford Dictionary of English).
But then I saw that the location itself added extra sting, or sharper teeth, to the words. It was painted on one of those temporary container offices from which building projects are run, and in which workers eat sandwiches and drink tea during their breaks.
La entrevista entera.
Su WEB
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