Art or thought
It’s been more than a million years since we died, you who read me and I, who write you; a million years is a snap of the infinite’s fingers and however, we are.
Perhaps the first step of feeling is the last one that cognition reaches; and at the precise moment when rationality begins, the feeling ends its free movement. Never thought we had to prove that being-in-art means not being, or what is worse, give up being. From the first moment, wanting to do and doing what you wanted, destroys the illusion of what wanted to be who did it. Does the art always leave us halfway through?
The trace is never traced for our liking, and its shape deforms what is left. It is enough an only second to erase desires and to make what was wanted to be, it never was. So the effort focused on materializing what can not be materialized, or to conceptualize what can not be conceptualized...it is always waste, when it is tried, it has gone...wind is impossible if it does not escape.
We do art and thought publications but we are well aware we just are that undeniable and human desire of transcendence that at some point, we all have felt; a common pair, a simple DNA from that infinite part of the infinite.