To dance is to sweat; there is no such thing as a dancer who writes articles–it would only be proper to think so. Normally, one would not link being a dancer to running a newspaper company. That's why it was the “La saison violente newspaper company.” “La saison violente” was not a flyer for the troupe, nor was it a bulletin. It was to plan a “becoming” as a “happening.” To link with what is difficult to link.

Is a happening fiction or reality? It is ficion-reality. What was desired was an Edge on paper that danced, beautiful like a sensual devil, between that faint double meaning, and on a risky edge entwined with an uncertain and unreliable sense of fact and fiction of incidents with both good and evil, and in this way have the physiology of dancers bathed in dirt and sweat build up an exceptional “carnal nature” from between the lines.

Surely, none are foolish enough to think to dance with a decent body. Not being decent even if one were to dance with a decent body is “dance.” That is where Edge stands. Because Dance is an incident, a happening. I began dancing with Mummy, and “dance = to go mad” comes under the conventional knowledge of (sacred) children. To dance is anti-human. Always, to dance is the temptation, including the fact that man comes out from man and conceives becoming something different with something other, to connect the body that crosses the threshold of what is not yet known and unknown with the outside. Dangerous. If it is not dangerous, it is not dance; it is not if one is not narrowly averting their body. Together with fear…

So, whether it be transgressing borders, migrating, wandering, abandoning the country, or leaving home, roam between homes and always being on the edge, be the edge! That is the philosophy of nomadic dance. Edge stands. A risky fire arises, and our bodies proceed together with the flame… To where will the dying phoenix spread its wings and fly?