If there is a relation between us and the event, it is non-relational, non-simple, and non-linear. The event is impossible, unforeseeable, and undefinable; that which happens without taking place, what arrives by never coming, and what is nearness in its becoming nothing but separated-ness and apartness; the undefinable rendered a word which evades our words … Continue reading the Event; the Pandemic
…to be the uncontained, the irreducible, the undefinable, and what cannot be named, interpreted, or simplified; to be infinite otherness and constant othering, a difference differing even from itself, and infinite plurality lacking unity or simplicity; to be the uncanny and the elsewhere, not a certain other or another other, but what is neither one … Continue reading the Right to be Different…
I am always trying to convey something that can’t be conveyed, to explain something which is inexplicableFranz Kafka It is the impossible, and not the possible, that we should always turn towards. The obscure in its strangeness, the uncanny in its apartness, the distant in every nearness, and that which dwells in its placeless-ness. Thinking … Continue reading Thinking the Impossible?
Regarding myself as a mere echo,Cave-like, unintelligible and nocturnalAnna Akhmatova The “self”; an echo of what is never present, repeating a past yet to come, and a trace of what has never been; the cave-like and the obscure where the enigma dwells in the hollowed out depth, in the space leading to the unknown, the … Continue reading The “self” is impossible
The author enters into his own death, writing beginsRoland Barthes Writing begins when the writer dies by entering into a space where the sign effaces and renders absent through referring to another sign which refers to another, infinitely. In every text there is a lack marking an absence that has been given over to words; … Continue reading Writing and Death
To write is to struggle and resist; to write is to become; to write is to draw a map: ‘I am a cartographer’Gilles Deleuze To write is not to draw a map, but to enter into a space where maps fail to appear, to find oneself thrown into a labyrinth without a beginning or an … Continue reading Writing and Becoming
I live in my suffering and that makes me happy. Anything that keeps me from living in my suffering is unbearable to meRoland Barthes To suffer happily is to confirm what negates oneself by refusing to forget one’s suffering, to exist for what threatens one’s existence by refusing to escape what destructs oneself, to welcome … Continue reading A suffering worthy of its name is a happy suffering