SEBI (fire of the back) is a form of wandering. If it is, there is no ending. Continuous present, process of here and communication. Those are voices of dumb, fire of blindness that is facing to persistent deformation of the moment.

I stand on ephemeral coastline. I soak my body into buzz of stormy sea. In the form of waves and buzz, there isn’t any same shape. The coast line also has been changing, every moment, from Ancient time. I see a small boat in the waves. Then it is overturning without sound just like a dead leave is burning. Flame in flame. No, is it just a vision? Our thin film of memory is cut by knife of moment and drifting. We are turbulence. We are “something trembling”, like the buzz and like particles of light that is scattering with infinite reflections. Very close to death.

Urara is the light of the ephemeral pale blue moon in the North.

Alein's music takes out North Atlantic Ocean from the refridgerator.

I will rub the edge of coastline with lonely animal's back—to get in touch with every scattering particle of lights.　　　　

1995, le Mans