Saturday, February 10, 1996

Feb. 10

Shadows, in a bright light, as if they were made of glass. Peripheral figures, those absent no longer touched, nor language exist. A consequence of the rupturing, in a place other than silence. Nothing to be desired. Confined to breaking up. Moving away. The fine sentiments, not to go go further, will disappear as well. The present, in trouble. One of those inexplicable things that has no infinitive. The whole mystery of the form of value dissolving everything and dying.

If we clasp one new molecular interpretation to the other in order to revive the production of the perceptual entity, an inhabitant of the same undifferentiated regions, reorganized in ways that make any identification of the links between them only two caresses among many. Even these innocent pleasures saturated by the wide waters. The forms of contact necessary to destroy them, to cathect the body’s periphery, describing and conceptualizing body processes in torture as an immediate and precise explanation, the core complex of all normal, permanent compulsions to affirm the attraction of the forbidden history of abomination.

Ecstasy at the sight of blood above the forest. Air, virgin soil, natural meadows, what is displayed. The victim’s field of vision remains persistently hidden.

A citizen of the world in the middle of the street, with carriages passing on either side.