“Look at this cochere door! Dwarf! I continued: it has two faces. Two paths here agree: no one has ever paths to the end… This long way to the door and back: it lasts an eternity. And this long way out the door and forward, that is another eternity”.
(Thus spoke Zarathustra. Friedrich Nietzsche)
Astral date unknowed_
I feel lost_
Traveling continuously for boundless space is possible. Visit exotic worlds and parallel universes, know the curves of the time, the movements of Sioux endless dances. Travel distances between sidereal signs of present stems from time immemorial it is equally possible. Crossing the left doors of access to satellites that revolve around our shamans perpetual consciences. Admire the hanging gardens of Babylon and then sit down to talk with Destiny and find him obedient it is finally possible. A new world is showing in front of my eyes. This time it’s for sure the world from which I left blank. I can hardly recognize it but I feel like familiar. Yet so far, trillions of galaxies far, we have traveled desirous of knowledge for decades whose account is lost. Now I’m here, and I find the endless return. It’s been thousands of years and things appear as a new but faded, I forced a door and I find this present still active on my most peripheral and archaic hemisphere of my brain. I’m having a deja vu?
«This I’ve seen … I know that person … I know how it works … It was so long that it felt not to mention …». Amarcord. And yet it all seems so rarefied, impalpable, away: it seems to attend the tangibility of echo. Redundancy signals. An holographic memory, fiction. Simulacra of an upcoming reality.
If it were not for my mortal flesh I would say to be in front of what we have tried to find continuously. The Phoenix.
I rediscover a new feeling, an awakening from millennial slumber which start weaned. I’m touching this world. It’s the first time and it seems in all a first time. I feel to be entered in connection with this world, I feel a gentle pressure on my meat, everywhere the same pressure. I feel the cold is just a reverse transfer to a feeling if intense heat. I breathe deeply the smell of an old radio. I close my eyes. My robe melts, becomes the first fiber, fragments then finally dust all around. I imagine. On the face drawing a smile. Funeral house.
I open my eyes. I try to find myself and I am not.
I’m feeling lost.
Love you all.
Benoit Menard, Oliver Pauk, Andrea Martinucci, Zsofia Keresztes, Dominik, Sebastian Wickeroth, Raphael Leray, Synchrodogs
28.3.17 — 15.4.17