2015 - 18 : 00
In Plato’s time the Pendulum motion was explained as the flapping of a fish: the stone swinging above the ground resists this state of affairs. It wishes to return to the earth. When it comes to a still stand it is because it is tired of the struggle. You could almost get angry with the know-it-alls who were not satisfied with this answer and continued to question.
In Passion search for the language of reality. Words are not what they are. Always the interpretation of the compiler and then of the unraveller. Which is closest to the truth, the almost scientific intellectual
thought governed by rules or the intuitive heart that feels in fragments?
Joined or separated? Innocence or ignorance?
Fiction or reality? The head or the heart? I am torn apart. What do I feel? What do I think? And what is real? The heart beats.
In The Analytical Language of John Wilkins (El idioma analítico de John Wilkins), Jorge Luis Borges describes “a certain Chinese encyclopedia,” the Celestial Emporium of Benevolent Knowledge, in which it is written that animals can be divided into: that belong to the Emperor, embalmed, tatme, suckling pigs, sirens, muthical, stray dogs, that
feature in this classification, that lash out like madmen, innumerable, drawn with a fine camelhair brush and so on, that have broken a jug,
that from a distance resemble flies.
In sanity I meditate, I don’t know, I don’t know, I don’t know, I don’t know, I don’t know, I don’t know, I don’t know, I don’t know… Maybe if I repeat it a thousand times I will not know.