“How to sleep in a world without a lullaby, without a lulling refrain, without a capacity for forgetting, without unconsciousness itself, since Eros and Thanatos patrol everywhere shamelessly, sardonic watchmen armed with whips and cudgels? How to sleep in a world hypnotized by the vision of its own absence of vision of the world, as well as by the inanity of all visions that have dissolved but that always used to promise awakenings, triumphant mornings following splendid evenings in the blaze of which night has been forever discredited?
How to sleep, distraught soul, soul without soul, soul that floats lifeless over the field of battle or muck whose inanity an operating-room lamp garishly exposes?”
— Jean-Luc Nancy, The Fall of Sleep: The Soul That Never Sleeps, trans. by Charlotte Mandell
How to sleep, distraught soul, soul without soul, soul that floats lifeless over the field of battle or muck whose inanity an operating-room lamp garishly exposes?”
— Jean-Luc Nancy, The Fall of Sleep: The Soul That Never Sleeps, trans. by Charlotte Mandell
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Led home into oblivion the sociable talk of our slow eyes.
Led home, syllable after syllable, shared out among the dayblind dice, for which the playing hand reaches out, large, awakening.
And the too much of my speaking: heaped up round the little
crystal dressed in the style of your silence.
— Paul Celan, Below, trans. Michael Hamburger
Led home, syllable after syllable, shared out among the dayblind dice, for which the playing hand reaches out, large, awakening.
And the too much of my speaking: heaped up round the little
crystal dressed in the style of your silence.
— Paul Celan, Below, trans. Michael Hamburger
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All
will be difficult to say:
the real word
is never easy.
All will be hard:
pitiless light
excessive living too
conscious of being.
All will be
able to wound. Will be
aggressively real.
So real it rends us.
There is no pity in signs
nor even in love: being
is excessively lucid
and word is dense and wounds us.
(All words are cruelty.)
— Orides Fontela, Speech, trans. Chris Daniels
will be difficult to say:
the real word
is never easy.
All will be hard:
pitiless light
excessive living too
conscious of being.
All will be
able to wound. Will be
aggressively real.
So real it rends us.
There is no pity in signs
nor even in love: being
is excessively lucid
and word is dense and wounds us.
(All words are cruelty.)
— Orides Fontela, Speech, trans. Chris Daniels
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Suresh Punjabi
Portraits
Museum of Art & Photography (MAP) (Bengaluru)
1970s
Portraits
Museum of Art & Photography (MAP) (Bengaluru)
1970s
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