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domingo, 14 de agosto de 2016

Tobermory, CR VocalesV



We drowned in Tobermory
In a green silence full of hummingbirds flipping their wings near the waters
We drowned in the Peninsula
Our skin turned green, our noses exploded and disfigured our faces
We rested in the sun, stained, deformed, mutilated
waiting for the language to obey us.
There is a saying in Spanish that we use every time something is so good or so bad
That we cannot find adjectives to describe it
We say “no tiene nombre”
Which literally translates to “it has no name”
I tell you about this while we are sailing in Lake Huron
 and the wind capsized our boat.
Colloquially, we accept the limitations of language,
We, as common people understood a long time ago
That language cannot express it all.
I always tend to relate beautiful moments
to terrible accidents and blood
I never imagine a word, just an image that stays in my head for hours
But it is the word to describe that image and the moment I imagine it
That obsesses me.
Language is an object of devotion for it is incomplete
And does not relinquish its possession over anything else but itself.
I don’t want to have a face, I don’t want to have a body
I just want to have, what no one can possess: language.


CR VocalesV

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