Konstrukce (/kɒnstrʌkseɪ/) is a Czech word meaning construction. It’s equally correct to say: podívejte se na konstrukci na Krasové! (look at the construction on Krasová!), as it is to say: veškerá morálka je lidská konstrukce (all morality is a human construct).

Konstrukce‘s triptych is assembled from fragments, sentences noted down during online conversations, faults, slips, elements of narrative intentional and accidental. The speakers have mostly Czech, but also Slovak, Ukranian, or Russian, as their central languages, not English. They are friends, tutored students, acquaintances, and strangers. They work in offices, schools, farms, factories, academies, radio-stations, hotels, banks, and warehouses. They show there is no fixed manner of speaking, no true native or grammatically perfect form, only ways to communicate. Pain will always be pain, wrapped in plastic, or in language. A baby can never be inseperated. Words can’t always rotate, and are poor at retaining liquid. Sometimes, even far from the Dead Sea, we can almost see the dead.

Calladine-Jones brilliantly strips language of its pretence. In these poems and reconstructed fragments rooted in our current moment, we witness a stunning endeavour to restore life beyond its mechanics. (Zein Sa’dedin, ignitionpress)

Sorry me, I don't know

where is the problem.

I'm sorry. I'm leaving.

Please leave them, rather

act as if they really were.

Will you keep for me

this time forever ―

or should I return?

Today and next week,

calm down.

I was thrown to the water again.

Now I’m back with the light.

This is the second time

I’m completely underwater.

from limits
It takes on two days to prepare

and you must taste each of them.

It’s like we can love each day,

it’s like open door, who wants

can come.

from big

There are still paths and roads

we have not been.

There was something I wanted

to say you, something I saw.

We had visitor today,

but he just wanted to go, go home.

from decisions

…a cross-section of the mind in its perpetual and ever-frustrated attempt at self-expression, an interrogation of the power dynamics that regulate this process, and a poignant and human rendering of digital and linguistic alienation and uncertainty. (Fitzcarraldo Editions)

Voice comes before speaking, speaking before what’s said. Poring over the proofs for Constructions at Vlkova 26, in the apartment where I live in Prague’s Zizkov, I thought I recalled someone saying this, or perhaps no one had ever said it at all, perhaps I’d just invented it from nothing, a fake in the library of possible quotations. Where? On which shelf? If there exists one fake, everyone is culpable. If one book is thrown out, they should be thrown out one and all.