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  • Part 1

    Seven years ago I wrote Umor Vitreo, a story about the slavery of the "subjectivity", "the point of view" and about its sublimation; the flâneur (Baudelaire describes him as a botanist of the sidewalk, Benjamin, a dandy made from the industrial revolution, Walser makes him like almost a bucolic angel; both the versions agree with the taoist paradox of "doing without doing", that is an approach to the creative contemplation that reveals the processes of the invisible world). The text is divided in chapters, each one titled with the name of a part of the eye. Here there is an extract. With this work about work, I started a new work, a work about my self, that seems, and I fear it is, not finished and never it will be at all.

    From Papilla
    "The protagonist is a worker: an hero. His cracked shoulders carry the shields on, the flesh is crushed by the helmet; the first ones changed into tables, the rest changed into second courses. First will be last. Come in the rest of this happy supper! Mandibles are smashed from their hook. Salon's rules suggest you bitters. Smoke will rise from the battle's fields for the last time. A man is different from a monkey because he wears trousers and he hang on it his scimitar. The beast plays guitar!"
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