Menneskekollektivet - Lost Girls, Jenny Hval, Håvard Volden

In the beginning, there is no word, and no eye

In the beginning, there is sound

In the beginning, we create with our mouths

Do we know who makes what sound?

Do we know who, from who, no

Sound is more familiar than subjects, and time, and time

We are, and sound hugs our bodies

There is darkness

Sound travels across it

Invisible bodies carry

Darkness leads us closer to what will in the future be called death

Which is now inseparable from what will in the futur be called life

W exist and sound hugs our bodies

I reach out for a vowel, and it’s so soft

I cannot distinguish a 'Y' from a thigh

At this time, there is no 'I', and we don’t know God

Can we ever truly be selfless and compassionate when we don’t know 'I',

I wonder?

I think about this as I am talking to Jehovah’s witnesses—they're at the door

What is human, is human, an 'I'?

A non-'I'?

A selfless action?

Can you ever really say you are knocking on a door as a selfless act?

Because you are imposing your belief on someone else

You are admitting that you believe that your belief is worth more than whatever

beliefs behind the door

You knock on the door because you believe in the context of a door,

and in conviction, preaching, spreading the good word

In the beginning, there is no good word

In the beginning, there is no word

There is voice, and it comes from somewhere

Invisible bodies bring it over to here, from there

Does that mean it doesn’t come from me?

I don’t know what who is

Isn’t the idea of God the idea of self?

I want to ask the Jehovahs

Perhaps that thing about selflessness boils down to my own limited

understanding of selflessness

To me, selflessness has a lot to do with singing

Kissing is a selfless act, or at least, potentially a selfless act

Singing could, should be about compassion

In the beginning, there is darkness

Sound travels across it

Invisible bodies carry

In the beginning, there is darkness

Sound travels across it

Invisible bodies carry

I try to go there

For I fail to go there

But somewhere it’s there

Fragmentary

Moments when I’m stretching out of myself

To get closer to you

Will I ever get close, closer, close enough to sound you

Together

Tissue and sound

Is what is stretching out of myself

Will I ever get close

Will I ever cross my hands?

Carried by invisible bodies, bodies, bodies, bodies, bodies, bodies

Now it’s where would I

If I had another’s mouth

To get closer to you

To sound you, to sound you, will I ever get close, closer, close enough to

sound you

Together, together, together, together, together, together, together, together

(Out) Together

(Out) Together

(Out) Together

(Out) Together

(Out) Together

Tissue and sound

Is what is stretching out of myself

Tissue and sound

Is what is stretching

Will I ever get close

Will I ever cross my hands?

Carried by invisible bodies

Carried, carried, carried, carried, carried, carried, carried, carried, carried,

carried, carried, carried, carried, carried

Stretching

Stretching out of myself

Out of myself

Who looks when I’m stretching

In the beginning, there is no 'I'

There is sound

Will I ever get, will I ever get, close, closer, close enough?

Close, closer, close enough

Close, closer, close enough

Close, closer, close enough

Close, closer, close enough

Close, closer, close enough

Close, closer, close enough

Close, closer, close enough

Close, closer, close enough

Close, closer, close enough

Close, closer, close enough

Close, closer, close enough

Close, closer, close enough