Set up: The three of us sitting around the office table upstairs with microphones on. Polyxenie walks down the stairs wearing our Pink Neo Toum Knit Set with the Scarf Boots

Polyxenie starts singing «Skile Skile»


Orestis: From OHI (roundabout named after the Greek ‘Ohi Day’, Anniversary of the ‘No’)

Maria: The corner store with triangle murals that Mr. Aletras says hi, Aglantzia’s theatre.

Marina: We can’t find a spot to park.

Poly: The Young-Girl swims in deja-vus. For her, the first time something is lived is always [at least] the second time it has been represented.

Marina: The earth is nice when it revolves.

Poly: The Young-Girl suddenly feels dizzy when the world stops revolving around her.

Maria: While I’m parallel parking, I need coffee.

Poly: The Young-Girl is old already insofar as she knows herself to be young. The Young-Girl carries a mask on her face. When the Young-Girl giggles, she’s still at work.

Orestis: Is Maria wearing a bodysuit?

Marina: Been hearing a lot about you. But you‘re not here.

Poly: Often, before decomposing, the Young-Girl gets married. The Young-Girl never creates anything; she re-creates herself. The Young-Girl invariably calls everything that she is chained up with “happiness.”


Orestis: Occupation

Marina: We occupied, we possibly became something we were not and we would never be. You were tired, I got tired too (*). I was looking for love.

Orestis: For a kiss, at least.

Marina: Thank god no plasterboards were installed.

Orestis: Thank god.

Maria: We still don’t have a sign.

Maria: My mind wandered off… You, in London, me in Cyprus, the truth is we always had our differences.

Marina: You know, sometimes I wonder how things could be if we could be together. The Cartesian Self as a solitary being, Descartes. The Self as a thinking solitary being – solipsism. Solipsism and the Cartesian problem of other minds.

Maria: And all of a sudden here comes the omnipresent and omnipotent Garoyian (retiree politician of the Democratic Party in Cyprus).

Poly: Young-Girl is crazy about the authentic because it’s a lie. The Young-Girl knows how to play the part of sentimentalism. The Young-Girl is “happy to be alive,” so she says at least.

Orestis & Maria start singing “Little Turkish Dancer”

x3 leei leei leei

x3 little Turkish dancer

Poly: For the Young-Girl, “love” is but a word in the dictionary. The Young-Girl never learns anything. That’s not what she’s there for. The Young-Girl knows all too well what she wants in detail to want anything at all in general.

Maria: This guy came and we went up in the mountains, to Troodos. We didn’t manage to see the vineyards. We visited a house. They made us coffee and we had some leftover cake. That song was playing, “With my boyfriend, my lovely boyfriend”.

Poly: The Young-Girl enjoys speaking of her childhood with great emotion, to suggest that she hasn’t got beyond it, and that fundamentally she’s remained naive. Like all whores, she dreams of innocence. But, distinct from them, she demands to be believed, and believed sincerely. Her childishness, which is, in the end, but a fundamentalism of infancy, makes her the most cunning vector of the general infantilisation.

«Cool Chick/ Gkomena Moiraia» starts playing


while Polyxenie changes in her second outfit (Neo Toum Scarf Pants with embroidery logo t-shirt)

Poly: The Young-Girl’s triumph originates in the failure of feminism.

In the final analysis, the Young-Girl’s ideal is domestic.


Marina: Last night at dinner I met my cousin’s crazy wife, she has a flower tattooed on her hand and the initials of another man. As grandpa was sitting, this Russian woman came to ask for two euros so that she could buy an (Easter) candle, I guess she is his caretaker. I wish there was a machine that kissed relatives. I would have liked to design it and name it “kissing machine for relatives”.

Poly: The Young-Girl “loves life”, which must be understood as implying that she hates all “forms of life”. The whole of the Young-Girl’s life coincides with what she’d like to forget.

Maria: White, pink, blue, yellow, black… This is how I think of things nowadays. Things would be better if you weren’t afraid to say you love me. If you felt I was perfect for you, that you couldn’t stand the idea of living without me.

Marina: What’s that called?

Maria: What? Troodos Co-op?

Orestis: Divided by three, everything divided by three.

Poly: The Young-Girl privatises everything she perceives. Thus, for her, a philosopher is not a philosopher, but an extravagant erotic object; in the same way, for her, a revolutionary is not a revolutionary, but a piece of jewellery.  The Young-Girl conceives of her own existence as a management problem she needs to resolve.  The Young-Girl can certainly talk about death, but invariably she’ll conclude that after all “that’s life.” The Young-Girl would like very much if the simple word “love” didn’t imply the project of destroying “society.” The Young-Girl doesn’t get old; she decomposes.

Poly starts singing «I feel like falling/ Niotho oti pefto» starts playing


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