Once dead decomposition will begin with having to get rid of all the physical garbage left behind since the first day; splitting its territory into waste and compost, mindlessly waiting a long time on a bench for some dark edges of memory, the black needle in the haystack, contemplating the spores flying in the fog. Task accomplished of becoming an ant or honey, being reborn as a man in the middle of the desert, carving out a salvation for the soul as quickly as possible. Spiritual work ad aeternam finding the virgin angle from which to justify the decomposition, hearing the brilliance of the flint in the fire. Waking up, making clay. From the grain of salt of once sweat, erect the dam against the disbelievers and the mourners (among whom you unfortunately recognize those you love).
The world enters us and departs, just as language and image and idea are imprinted upon our consciousness, considered, forgotten, passed on, released.
In the meantime leave nothing to chance, to rickety episodes: to make the deep cellars transparent, to experiences, to the possibilities of humanity, for a new humanity.
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