It excite me the idea of turning myself inside out like a sock
to touch the centre of the Earth with my aorta
so no one can tell the tender heart from heart of stone;
in the bottom of my heart, I’d love to be able to speak heart in hand.
While a stone roughly the size of the heart is surgically fixed to my chest, in the adjoining room a large stone lies on the floor. On it I dug a small cup then filled with my blood. In the room the darkness; a concentrated beam of light illuminates the blood and allows a glimpse of the rest of the stone in the dim light. The only widespread sound is the beating of my heart. The audience can enter the room after the surgeon has fixed the stone to my chest.