Лаус Страндби Нилсен


When you have understood the map,...

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You throw a stick in the water, b...

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They never put the light out in the corridor

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While the grass grows, loneliness...

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The title geysir

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Seen from a distance in backlight it looks like a slightly informal funeral.

But the yellow, red, blue, purple, black, incidentally not green

windcheaters and raincoats and not least the cameras tell

a different story about the incidentally 19 texts without a heading

that stand around a mud hole. Which one must not touch.

19 different open texts, cryptically unfinished, muttering

with a planet in their mouths and the sky for a handkerchief.

Can they read one another? No. Can they read themselves? No.

They are waiting for the title, and so they cannot get down

to the text. And then it is there. A fountain of boiling water

shoots high in the air. The cameras click. An expected

surprise, called Geysir, makes the texts meaningless

and briefly closed...

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