writings.
Wednesday, August 17, 2005
  Sad is the fate of the body that ends up a clown, Jester of king and court.
Shaped by demand.
Dismantled and taken to pieces.
Transformed into an old whore who follows empty choreographies.
Choreographies become vacant though stereotype,
senseless repetition.
Gone are the days of glory, of dexterity.
Gone is the pulse, the swimming in the flows among the crevices.
Arm strokes which lack direction and movement,
undermining support, filled with polyester.

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.
 


<< Home
“At the same time, I feel a growing nostalgia for the future, a memory of the future I have already experienced but somehow forgotten. (...)Equally, we have a growing premonition of our own births, which are about to take place. At any moment we may be born for the first time.” (J.C.Ballard “News from the Sun”)

My Photo
Name:

Contact me at victoria_arregui@hotmail.com

Creative Commons License
Esta obra está bajo una licencia de Creative Commons.
WRITINGS
LINKS.