On the multiple shores of the bridge (that has no shores).
- “I feel stupid speaking like this, like the book wants me to.“
- “Learning is artificial, until it becomes natural.”
- “I took you apart, I interpreted you, I told you, I left you and I don’t even know if I put the pieces away before leaving.”
- “Is it me who’s getting all this, or am I just receiving it on behalf of the group?
I must have left some space for them to come close.”
I look back on my tracks. So many changes of focus and perspective.
People I get skin from, people I give skin to.
Disgust for those who don’t create - risk of cancer? unreasonable precaution?
Neither vomit, nor excrement.
Mutual warnings.
Mutual intimacy.
Intersection.
I cross over myself, like my own bridge.
I am crossed over by others, on their way somewhere else,
and they drag me with them,
but I also remain where I am.
Bridge.
Bridge without shores.
Millenary ghost bridge.
Today I discovered my body is a bridge,
and that not only I cross it, they do to; they prowl;
they wear out my wood; they stain it and disfigure it.
How can I still say it’s mine?
How can I doubt it...
Mists and darkness from which so many countenances arise
...where you are to be found as well.
31/10/2004 - This text was written during the seminar on “Group Coordination, Body and Intervention”given by Patricia Mercado (Social Psychologist) in Buenos Aires, Argentina.
