Have you already forgotten the other from the first donation, Eliseo?

I watched with silence. Like the one who sees without looking. No instrument. With invisible silence. The vegetables of the animals enter the write. Falling into himself. Within the silence not emptied of itself. Accumulating silence in its leaden continent. As love feigns greed. Along paths that intensify the march of the feet. So I sit in the dream. Now the sum of all liquid eyes to see through its fluid transparency. I can't get rid of myself. Nor unravel me. Nor in root constitute myself. Nor fly in the air. In the multiple masks of the absurd. Makes connections with emphasis. In an explosive and mutilated reality. The other one, the other one, the other one is coming! Always the only culprit, because abstract social, of the innocent individual inner experience. The other, the other, the other comes with his intention to reduce us, limit us, coerce us! Have you already forgotten the other from the first donation, Eliseo?

Autobiographies. Write en miroir. Palimpseste sur painting. Mirror Sub-Irrealism. Random intratextuality.