An Exhibition that Leaks 

To Be Destroyed, competition entry

“I’m drowning here, and you’re trying to describe the water.” (*)


What’s good of a lighthouse, when its lens is of Carrara marble?


What useless a place could be, turning staircase into bookshelves?


When men drift to its shore, they could not climb. 


Panting, they see stained waterline telling lies of the present.



They crush leather-bounds into corners,


Breaking walls, leaking water.


Ink smudges into language of the street.

* (As Good as It Gets, 1997)