棄雲
2005年，是一塊發黃的厚海綿，被掏空顯現雲的心臟。
2006年，再遇上一些被拋棄的物料；一張花檯面，給不會書寫的人書寫。
不是戀物、也無需文化符號，甚至談不上詩化；只是在被揚棄的國度， 我帶著這些物料，不知不覺在路上，留下痕跡。
Once upon a time there was a moldy sponge. Its heart was a cloud-like cavity. Now I have my desk covered with pattern, designed for those who does not write well to write. No fetishism. Nor any cultural signification. Nor any poetic reference. That only matters are those abandoned materials, unconsciously leaving traces along my path.
2006年，再遇上一些被拋棄的物料；一張花檯面，給不會書寫的人書寫。
不是戀物、也無需文化符號，甚至談不上詩化；只是在被揚棄的國度， 我帶著這些物料，不知不覺在路上，留下痕跡。
Once upon a time there was a moldy sponge. Its heart was a cloud-like cavity. Now I have my desk covered with pattern, designed for those who does not write well to write. No fetishism. Nor any cultural signification. Nor any poetic reference. That only matters are those abandoned materials, unconsciously leaving traces along my path.
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