What Cannot Be Said Above

It Is To Have A Compulsive, Repetitive, And Nostalgic Desire For The Archive, An Irrepressible Desire To Return To The Origin, A Homesickness, A Nostalgia For The Return To The Most Archaic Place Of Absolute Commencement

Still Today, I Cannot Cross The Threshold Of A Teaching Institution Without Physical Symptoms, In My Chest And My Stomach, Of Discomfort Or Anxiety. And Yet I Have Never Left School.

We Are Given Over To Absolute Solitude. No One Can Speak With Us And No One Can Speak For Us; We Must Take It Upon Ourselves, Each Of Us Must Take It Upon Himself.

The End Approaches, But The Apocalypse Is Long Lived.

That Is What Deconstruction Is Made Of: Not The Mixture But The Tension Between Memory, Fidelity, The Preservation Of Something That Has Been Given To Us, And, At The Same Time, Heterogeneity, Something Absolutely New, And A Break.