I am a man who has suffered much in mind and because of this I have the right to speak

Antonin Artaud

“I have the right to speak”; the right paradoxically, to speak impossibly. A right; un-doing “itself” at the moment of its affirmation, negating time and its moments, of speaking; what is more than “itself” in the failure to become a “self”, and that which is incessant departing and constant coming, of others, their rights, the traces of our voices and the masks of the future; their rights—inscribed yet effaced—to speak, through their fissures, fractures, and ruptures, saying loss.

I actually lose myself in my thought as one does when one dreams, or as one suddenly plunges back into one’s thought. I am the one who knows the hiding places of loss

Antonin Artaud

A place—but without a place, a placeless place—of loss; escaping its place, evading placed-ness, through the other’s failure, to move, to elude its place, the place that hides, becoming the place of loss, losing oneself “as one does when one dreams”. But an impossible dream, eluding its place, becoming life and that which hides life, its absence and the fading away of what remains here and now.

I am speaking of the absence like a gap, of a kind of cold, imageless suffering, without feeling, like an indescribable clash of abortions

Antonin Artaud

“Absence like a gap”; through which speaking and the right to speak announce silence, that which should be heard, a certain, paradoxical, insistence on silence, through speaking, saying silence, negatively—the imageless and the indescribable—speaking of a self, its absence, being lost in a dream, in that which hides dreaming, not the gap that fragments the self, but the self that is a gap; that is, not “I am speaking of absence”, but I am absence.

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