After it is enough

More after. Spilling over. Landscapes of desires that have outlived their moment. I do not feel, but I know the decription. An afternoon spent practicing the act of handing over. So I exit now.

I will measure the dimensions of my world. How do I hold things bigger than me in my mind? What are the limits? Lets see what we have here. We have concepts, we have strands of politics, we have yearning for fullness. A museum out of a slice of time.

How does that work? Expansion. Generation. Multiplication. The less becoming the more. In this case, we have to explore an architecture. An architectural experience that was not designed but is here now, nevertheless. We step into this volume and realize that this space is only filled with our presence. Who is the we, you ask? And I remind you that we are dealing with multiplicities, anomalies, it is impossible to ever be alone.

This volume has let's say, arrrived as an abulance would, as a refugee camp would; as an interim measure of empathy for the wilderness that is the terrain of our desire. We feel our desire, but nobody can know it. It is like having a button and not knowing if pressing is the thing to do. Desire hangs on, makes us feel wicked and stupid, leads us on and then nothing. We are clueless as usual. This is only a theatre, experience is good enough but then what?