17 marzo, 2018


I walked towards the sound of something roaring in a day, the kind of day that is like darkness but lit up, on its forested, proximal verge by gorse, which is a bright yellow flower. Citron-yellow and a kind of tin or silver roofing with holes in it. The day. Like walking in a dreamed landscape drenched with the wrong rain. Monsoon. What kind of rain is this? I recognized the immensity but not the temperature. This was monstrous: the inability to assimilate, on the level of the senses, an ordinary experience of weather. Here is the tongue, for example, constantly darting out to feel the air: what is it? Is it summer? Is it a different season? It’s a different day. That’s okay. Damaged from her travels, in some sense unsettled, enormously anxious, a girl does it anway: gets up and goes. It’s as if the day has a memory of her and not the other way around.

Bhanu Kapil, Incubation: A Space for Monsters (Leon Works, 2006)

10 marzo, 2018


-I always call to Walter Benjamin, who says that 'behind every fascism, there's a failed revolution'. (...) Every revolution is not only looking to the future, but also redeems the past fate revolutions.

*A ghost story, 2016*

03 marzo, 2018


, the new thesis eleven should read something like this: "philosophers, social scientists and scholars in the humanities should cooperate with all those who struggle against domination, so as to generate ways of understanding the world that promote transformative practices leading to the simultaneous liberation of the human and the non-human world".

_Boaventura de Sousa Santos, "The new thesis 11" ->

(Philip Zach, "untitled properties")