Thursday, November 18, 2021

Rodrigo Toscano





La Observadora 

Feeling the initial jolts of an explosive, subterranean social transformation is something that she lives for, especially when the jolts are perceived to erupt from nearly frozen bystanders' warm, pulsating bodies. 

 First, their emotions brighten to a maximum luminosity, spectacular accidents in thought causing intention to splinter into multiple paths of action; next, their ideals deflate and tuck hard against actual lived conditions; after that, their sense of public vanity dissipates, a scattering plume of smoke to nowhere; finally, their dogged dedication to reason clamps its straining claws into a rapidly unfolding speculative science of a just-around-corner "reality." 

The jolts come in a series of flickering dream images, sending waves of recovered historical memory into her sense of The Now. She adores this new "little demon" friend more than anything else in the world. The feeling is mutual.

No comments:

Post a Comment

Barbara Guest

  Santa Fe Trail I go separately The sweet knees of oxen have pressed a path for me ghosts with ingots have burned their bare hands it is th...