Kowloon Lost City
installation performance en hommage à la ville disparue de Kowloong Walled City, Hong Kong. Création du livret pour le projet mix média Kowloon Lost City, visuels de la résidence Bijloke Summer Academy au LOD Muziektheater, Gent.
Idée originale : Clémence Martel
Composition : Cong Wei
Scénographie : Pierry Jaquillard
Livret : Marion Mucciante
photo ©Michiel Devijver @Bijloke Summer Academy
KOWLOON LOST CITY
libretto —
Hemmed-in
walls cramping
handing-in
ends
landscape upsided
twisted streets
horizon at
a right angle
building bounds from soil
facing skies toward sod
the far-est seen (is) so close
drops airing
inside condenses
smells of mine
my people
Hemmed-in
walls cramping
handing-in
ends
the desks shift at night
and soft into beds
of unglory tender
shift after shift
morning will arise
and welcome the youth
that stands from and for (those)
rubbed skins paid
Hemmed-in
walls cramping
handing-in
ends
piling rooms
one on other
eventually a roof
on the last ceiling
of the thirteenth one
and cocky planes
taking the piss
out of my head
and teasing me
stuck and bent
Hemmed-in
walls cramping
handing-in
ends
no time from light
to pick a meal
on right timing
here gut rules
in maze
pouring booze
plotting in plates
souls to fill
lives to back up
edibles transformed
by reckless fingers
in ruthless schedules
dropping in my keg
crashing in my fryer
to fill souls
to back up lives
people at home
in my apartment
there is no light
there is no light
power cut
and they get into
and they sneak in
all in the living room
dying on the carpet
half living they
stick in
and stick around
I am a breeder
office based high up there
I get to see clouds
high-speed pigeons I raise
I breed money
so good that it’s illegal
my office open roof
that’s money means
I’ll make you fly
hidden up the sky
won’t you have a bet
won’t you give a go
won’t you have a try
window on wall
pal and I eating
on the table next to
the cloudy pan on
the hotplate and
there there
pal and I eat
and as it has been
for forty years
there there
we have been
day or night
can’t really tell but
there there is
a fire from the pan
on the hotplate
clutching the wall
searching the window
there there
there we are
gamble gamble
small gamble
for small bet
here we tan
and we get
to gamble gamble
three cups
coin right
left right right
right left
well
hand dive in
putty dough
frying sound
my hands
my tools
my own machine
providing citizens
of the outer world
being more efficient
than an actual factory
my ten fingers
my four square meters
manufactory
AROUSE!
my cure
I’ll have some of
it saves from
pills spikes
and hunger
it fills like
great feed
it feels like
all I need
AROUSE!
mate
pal
and me so pale
getting back in life again
AROUSE!
© Marion Mucciante
2022
Kowloon Lost City
installation performance en hommage à la ville disparue de Kowloong Walled City, Hong Kong. Création du livret pour le projet mix média Kowloon Lost City, visuels de la résidence Bijloke Summer Academy au LOD Muziektheater, Gent.
Idée originale : Clémence Martel
Composition : Cong Wei
Scénographie : Pierry Jaquillard
Livret : Marion Mucciante
photo ©Michiel Devijver @Bijloke Summer Academy
KOWLOON LOST CITY
libretto —
Hemmed-in
walls cramping
handing-in
ends
landscape upsided
twisted streets
horizon at
a right angle
building bounds from soil
facing skies toward sod
the far-est seen (is) so close
drops airing
inside condenses
smells of mine
my people
Hemmed-in
walls cramping
handing-in
ends
the desks shift at night
and soft into beds
of unglory tender
shift after shift
morning will arise
and welcome the youth
that stands from and for (those)
rubbed skins paid
Hemmed-in
walls cramping
handing-in
ends
piling rooms
one on other
eventually a roof
on the last ceiling
of the thirteenth one
and cocky planes
taking the piss
out of my head
and teasing me
stuck and bent
Hemmed-in
walls cramping
handing-in
ends
no time from light
to pick a meal
on right timing
here gut rules
in maze
pouring booze
plotting in plates
souls to fill
lives to back up
edibles transformed
by reckless fingers
in ruthless schedules
dropping in my keg
crashing in my fryer
to fill souls
to back up lives
people at home
in my apartment
there is no light
there is no light
power cut
and they get into
and they sneak in
all in the living room
dying on the carpet
half living they
stick in
and stick around
I am a breeder
office based high up there
I get to see clouds
high-speed pigeons I raise
I breed money
so good that it’s illegal
my office open roof
that’s money means
I’ll make you fly
hidden up the sky
won’t you have a bet
won’t you give a go
won’t you have a try
window on wall
pal and I eating
on the table next to
the cloudy pan on
the hotplate and
there there
pal and I eat
and as it has been
for forty years
there there
we have been
day or night
can’t really tell but
there there is
a fire from the pan
on the hotplate
clutching the wall
searching the window
there there
there we are
gamble gamble
small gamble
for small bet
here we tan
and we get
to gamble gamble
three cups
coin right
left right right
right left
well
hand dive in
putty dough
frying sound
my hands
my tools
my own machine
providing citizens
of the outer world
being more efficient
than an actual factory
my ten fingers
my four square meters
manufactory
AROUSE!
my cure
I’ll have some of
it saves from
pills spikes
and hunger
it fills like
great feed
it feels like
all I need
AROUSE!
mate
pal
and me so pale
getting back in life again
AROUSE!
© Marion Mucciante
2022