The Book of Predictions
marți, 9 februarie 2021
marți, 2 februarie 2021
Melania's diary 1928
My
voice in the precinct conference room with the remains
of
Melania’s secret diary. Each of these magnetic key products
contains
several materials that we urgently need to recycle
and
reuse.
Each
magnetic key is unique completely encapsulated and
without
battery. If you look at it that way the task might not
be
so insurmountable while it's true that i am the conference
room
and the remains of Melania’s secret diary, the missing
battery
and also Melania spread into thousands of materials.
All
key products are made using natural yarns.
They
speak and can be broadcast simultaneously in the same
way
as high winds do when they blow across a blade of grass.
Some
would say dry bones are enough, enough is enough and
so
on but i say the winds can afford any number of girlfriends
no
matter how dry they may be.
I don’t know how you do things in
the city of Versailles but
down here in Odobesttown this is a place for drinking
not
joking and we protect bunnies from your apostate
world.
More specifically this is the proper procedure to
administer
magnetism:
I'm the only room that exists and Melania is the only
room.
She imparts unique prerogatives of her remnants to the
human
system.
I'm the only battery and the only battery is Melania.
In the depth of her being a rabbit with a whig is
being cut off
and by force of circumstances a trend of opinion is
being
created that she never come a second time.
So the rabbit stands on guard perfectly still the high
winds in
Something
needs to be told doesn't always mean it needs
to
be heard of course: before she is I or you Melania
was
my paternal grandmother and before she was my
sensitive
and imaginative grandma she was a student at
the
orthodox school in Bucarest.
And
before or perhaps even then, in 1928, Melania kept a
secret
diary there in a drawer (well more accurate:
in
a saltar).
A
diary which I can show you if you want to and in which
her
classmates drew their bones such as they are now.
Everything
gets worn down in the room of time: rooms,
bones,
poems, diaries, wishes, youth dreams, voices.
Many
times if lose your mind and if you're not careful a
diary
can be turn into actual bones and the bones into an
actual
voice.
But
the most interesting thing is that before being her
parents'
child and her diary Melania was nothing, a special
nothingness
one.
Now
I'll deal with the wind and tomorrow with rising sun
everything
will seem simpler:
Dear Nothing, I owe it all to you, everything and something
more: my whole artistic life and death.