To reduced radically. I have danced as if to put myself to the limit of “poorness.”
I have danced with pulling in trac the lines of “outside,” and I have danced with radically putting the lines of traveling, wandering, and exile on my body.
I copulate a breath with another breath, and then violently draw multiple breaths. I choke on it.
I stifle myself and to be white silence that is not dance.
(In my breath, there is always other breath. In my thinking, there is always other thinking, and in my possession, there is always other possession. What is important is that everything is multiple; I am others and somebody is thinking inside of us with the attack of thinking, multiplicity of the body, violence of language. There is joyful news in this.)
The night voice of out of the night, cry and silence. To be exposed to 裸形性 of the voice and breath by being naked.
What is in the bared naked body? There is surely sickness and the degradation of death and love in the polluted naked body.
Creaking and rubbing between damaged bone and muscle.
What is living in the jagged ends of the surface of skin? Plurality, multiplicity of the blood and ocean that were disrupted memories?
Indeterminate form of flowing mercury that is bared from hiding and become hidden from baring.
The forms of a anonymous, the form whose name were stolen.
When will you jump? When will you run?
When does the crack come as an electric shock, as if to caress my crevice?
To accuse latent power to the outside and force it to be seen, I have to endure with my offensive thinking.
I must wait patiently until somebody comes silently, and touch, drag out, and expose my limit.Who drove me (or what is no longer myself) to the cry of birds and animals? And why are watchers needed?
Confusion and loneliness, a split and unknown power inside me, are bared and bewildered, lose control, then become terrified, nervous, convulsed, and then they grab and take to the accidental place where there is an outbreak of power in the fight between defense and attack.
Watchers also arrive. I feel their breath on my back, I have intercourse with my closed gaze, and I have another breath copulate with my others. I am also a watcher.
It is everything “to arrive” at each other at the place of without place, asymmetry, impersonal place. Intercourse of between this breath and numerous breath is everything. If we leave that, everything will be spoiled.
But I will leave, step out. I will leave continuously. I must leave.
Because the “climax of intermingling” is an asymmetry thing.
It exists not in consistency, but in swerving around each other.
That is why I must swerve around everything. What is the power of outside?
It is not that the crack dissolves into a crack, nor is it is that innumerable breathing is identified as a single breath.
A crack makes a new crack towards a crack. The mixing of breathing will give birth to other breathing at the point when a moment’s breath vanishes.
We are at the place of struggle where we are pushed towards an incident. We will become the repetition as if “Oh, this is the first.”
It is no longer dance.
It was not aiming to have the identity of a dance.
To put cracks put into the dancing body with the cracked body and to open toward the things that already become nothing.
The place without place of arrive as an event that is an encounter of the unknown,
The strength and repetition of what is nothing but an ephemeral event of one-time occurrence, disappearing while pointing to the peak of experience and interaction for a moment.