EROSION, GLOSSARY OF CHAOS

Really, I am only air? (Miloš Crnjanski: Hallucinations)

What happens to a text that we have begun reading, and already after the title only the eyes ”read” the lines, while our being becomes air saturated by a golden powder that around the body roams…, and then, in the final full stop, it reassembles again, and plunges into itself, so we realise, only then, that we have truly noticed only the title and that final punctuation mark…?

And it all took as long as it is necessary for the ”usual” reading of the text before us.

Perhaps a more appropriate, still, a more serious question would be: where were we in those moments, and what, then, did read the text?

Or most important in the clash of these two queries to intuit whether Everything is only that powdery air: both our body, and that which we truly are. (Beforehand it would be good to know which is which, if the precondition itself is not precisely that ignorance, even the cause - of this illustrious act of erosion.)

A SURPLUS OF THINKING

Amir Brka’s real crazy

I say that, and it’s great

Even better: Amir Brka doesn’t live too well

And then everything is wonderful, because I have an excuse: I watch other people they are normal or, even worse: they exist completely they fight for themselves they have Subsistence they care about the Nation and the Homeland the raise small children

And I could just relax but, at the end a surplus of thinking screws me up requiring criteria

But from which Principle do I derive them

Translated by Ulvija Tanović

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