Once upon a time there lived a not yet existent chair.
All of its pieces were spread across the air.
In different parts of his indifferent future room.



Its feet and squared chest and wooden entity were still apart.
But that wood change
-
soon.

One lovely day a human would think: What if I build a chair?
Et voilá, it was there!
A thought!
A chair!
An idea as incidental as a newborn's fate.
Our future chair was soon to be made.

He was a tree
a big one, oak
He was the saw, the fosters boot,
no longer root.
He was his sandy paper, soft and tender
He was a ladder and a screw
A wooden bender
A page and later then,
a frame.

A cubical, a measured piece, at ease.
At l(e)ast,
he was a box with legs.
He was a gate and yet he was


a chair.




A chair was here.

paintings & drawings

poems
poems