by Can Küçük, Cem Örgen
for Baitball 02
Gum, a sour stress ball. Will continue to take form until it stales. Putting up resistance, giving shape, keeping close attention tightens the chin. The gum deceives the mind. The stomach thinks that it eats, the tongue thinks that it speaks and tells a different thing at every turn. It cleans the mouth from crumbs and the floor from dust. A snaggletooth rooted to the spot; a fractured stone fixated to the mouth. People are sweating blood to achieve a goal, to have a talk, to dance. The gum is a glue. To share is what unites us. Until there is no more spit in the mouth.