mangrove kipling, the mere name is a poetic synthesis of an image of nature and a hoodlum. we think of max frisch's character who tries on names like clothing - chromosom 7, anton sulak, le code, kernstaub, otokan, mangrove kipling. at which times did we feel happy? the image of a dark flight night comes to our mind, an intimate concert in the foyer of a cinema, for coincidental passersby, a space filled with thunderstorm both distant and embracing at the same time, divorced from the nocturnal street only by an ajar door. using the lense of a microscope, mangrove kipling scans the noises of machines and people. to breathe, some mangroves have specialised breathing roots. to avoid being buried as the mud rises, these breathing roots can grow upwards and bewitch an entire house. a man pushed the ajar door open and shouted just two words, but that caused the effect of somebody cutting deep into someone else's flesh. i turned northwards, yet the musician's concentrated look remained fixed on the screen, his face shining like a lamp being mirrored in a cloud. why don't we feel an objection against this reduced setting of a still human and a computer, something which annoys us in so many other concerts? machines are not treated as a purpose in themselves, they are tools. we think: how come that our weight pulls us to the ground (though we're magnetically attracted by all stars), and he - he seems to lack the hundreds of thousands of stitches which tie us and whose gravity keeps us on earth. his dreams must be more real than the moon, than the dunes, than everything that surrounds us, they must be his link to the universe. thus, eventually we, too, loose gravity through the sound's witchcraft. but where have i been? i mean, i left! it seems as if he became blind and all pores would open. what is the colour of his music? red like the belly of a mountain, like sparkling dragons? blue like the coast of a foreign continent? black like growing plants? or white like a cumulus which limits the field of vision in the distance... everything about him is absurd. "we must wait!" - "wait for what?" - "until it stops."