Myths, Tales, and Allegories Untied on a Curtain.

Imagine… the sky.
Neck tilted, cervical tense, thoracic stiffened, lumbar vibrating, sacrum stretched, coccyx numb.

Temporal spilled, greater wing beating, frontal warming to rest on the orbital blade and in the lacrimal bone, pour the pleasure of evoking an image.

Jaw stretched, mental foramen and maxilla widened upon realizing, among so many daydreams, the very sky within oneself. This same profound, inflamed, and reflective sky in the smoke of an intoxicated breath less than ninety degrees toward the upper pulpit of ideas about the world.

The power to fabricate truths from what is seen.

Imagine, then, the devotion that rises in the breaking of the semitendinosus in a fall, in the determination of the patella, and in the impact of the tibialis anterior muscle on the ground! The expansion of the visible as a system of faith.

Imagine, too, in the symphony of a single note conducted by many voices, the proximal radioulnar articulation burning and raising the radius and ulna in the surrender of the carpus, metacarpus, and phalanges of palms turned to the stars.

The materialization of the image as a system of order.

Everything absolute establishes itself in what is called its place, the gear of iconography prevails high, gesticulating the propaganda of beauty, love, and war. Images lie.

iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii, how much stupor!

Still, disobey. Disorganize, disconfigure, disjoint, and disconnect every inch of the common sense of formalizing things, indoctrinated by miserable functions of vile mechanisms of power that challenge the freedom of natural existence. Disfigure.

Disfigure the image. Disfigure the image of the image, the image of the image, and the image and also disfigure the image of the image of the image until the figure is no longer an image and with it goes the representation, the personification, the resemblance, the symbol, the imitation, the copy, the portrait, the scene, the icon, the model, the similarity, the reflection, and the replica so that we are finally completely taken by the sensitive.

Tell her that even the angels caught us dancing.

Igi Lola Ayedun