Dressed in a white, skin-tight suit I insert balls of cord into the suit all over my body. With a knife I cut small holes in the suit. Then I draw from the holes a big amount of white cord, until there is a big hill of cords in front of me. I pour some red paint on it. Then I walk slowly through the Piazza San Marco drawing the pile of cords behind me. The threads spread, mess up and get tangled. Finally, I go into the pile and tangle myself up with the cords. Even then I can find untouched balls of cord under my “skin” and I continue to pull them out.  To free myself I have to cut the threads around me and also the cloth I am wearing.
In this performances I did not plan anything in purpose. I just took all the materials I brought with me to Venice and started to work with in the early morning hours at the Piazza San Marco. As there was, in fact, virtually no audience, I went deeply into self-reception. The balls of cords suddenly became symbols for all my potential and I continued pulling it out from me until a certain point, where I felt I had to change the action. Using the red paint, to “spoil” the beauty of the pure innocent white threads gave me a feeling of satisfaction. Even though we are not able to live to our fullest potential, we are responsible to some degree for most of our injuries. While draging the “potential” with me, it got to be a heavy burden. So I stopped walking and involved myself deeply into it. Being tied in all the “lived and wasted potentials”, I discovered that I still had untouched balls of “potential”. To free myself I had to cut myself out, including the unlived “potentials”. It might be that this is what death is like.