MMM is for...

Translation of a diary entry found in a notebook by northern coast of the Black Sea.  Anonymous.  Undated.  I want to hear truths more than I want to  Hide my stupidity. Its the blessing of being born again as a 20 year old.  It’s the best thing that could have happened to me.  I can't help but be an idiot  because I'm just a new born child. This is the blessing of the d escendants  Of the northern horsemen too.  They have been born as a hundred  Something year old culture,  But their parents have bursted into dust.  There's not much they can do, as they are, so they write                Fictions, but not fallacies.  They’ve invented tales to live into, A chosen people, an alien language,  Situated in this planet’s heart  With an energy that we commonly perceive  As green. They once encountered my own  Brothers and sisters  by the Black sea. They looked at th...

Dictionary on top, some paragraphs and images below it. This is a super rough presentation. Also might be helpful to read my travel notes '23 prior to reading this.. I'm hoping to share these shards of ideas, see how they are received, so that i can actually take them further. i imagine the posts i make after this one will readdress the ideas brought up here and further continue the chase after mmm..... thank you xoxo Beauty : a promoter of MMM. A will or volition to uncompromisingly pursue an order, inspite of external challenges, entropy, and forces of destruction which are inevitable in life, the results of which usually produce some sort of emotional response and inspire vitality. Different pursuits and attempts at beauty can coexist amongst each other to create complex, powerful and generous systems of life. Bennet suggests such an idea when referring to Lucretius' link of internal diversity to the degree of power a thing possesses (Bennet, 22). Beauty can easily beco...

 In the City of Nightly Horsemen, people like to party amidst the ruins that resulted from one of the great wars of the last century. I crawled through the city’s crumbling remains of a once uncompromising attempt of order and I lost my place along linear time. Nearly 80 percent of this place was destroyed in battles, yet beauty does not fail to shine through the evidence of its destruction, to be marveled at by travelers from all over the world. An energy permeates even through the cracks of its infrastructure. The scars are not concealed but instead celebrated. I wondered: could it be that, like me, this city no longer wishes to be fixed nor unbroken?  In the absence of a stable government, with a hijacked right to cultural identity by recurring hegemonic forces, a group of pupils have started a movement towards the discovery of what it means to be of this place if not determined by rulers. Hand-in-hand with futurist generosities, and the possibility that fictions can hold m...

The thing is that some of us need to be born again as warriors of the past, reincarnated across seas to settle disputes once left in limbo, to grant ourselves a journey along which to persist, or to bring about some inspiration even if just for a single story, to be paired with a perfect soundtrack, to attune us to the adventurous particles that hide behind pervasive doom. And if we can communicate and reawaken this bond in other people, then maybe we could momentarily cure the dread of loneliness. Some of us need the memories of the wars we all died in, because although our politics were different, we lost each other side by side on the battlefield for the flies that swarmed near the tops of pyramids and watched over our demise. We had to ask the merchants in our dreams who the creators are of these elaborate works of art that they carry, just for them to point a finger back and say it's us, and for us to then wake up before we can remember how we did it. Some of us had to disrega...

I’ve been told there once must have been a time when the predecessors of our species were closer to 0, before they deviated and mutated into a far enough 1. 0 - when the species were cold, in unity with god (the creator of everything), all knowing without ever having learned. But then, as the story goes, two heroes decided to sacrifice all of their familiar comforts in god’s garden, supposedly against his orders, in exchange for a vision and a logic divided by two, by biting into the fruits from the tree of causality. This set off the initial spark of loosh, which moves congruently with entropy’s arrow of time, spawning will and perception, a split from 0 to 1, allowing for everything that is to be made, including the creatures we know ourselves as - humans.  As the two heroes started to see everything they once knew as whole become diluted with relational opposites, they were tormented by their position between the contradictions. Apparently they rushed to hide their bodies from o...

My parent’s explanation of the Law of Conservation of Mass tinted my lenses for perceiving the world in a way that triggers responses in me that are comparatively different to most people around me. Or perhaps this was just because of my own understanding of what they meant.  I learned about death through the mail. At the time, my mother was unknowingly involved in all kinds of artistic affairs, the acts of which would sometimes implicate me. On a domestic weekend in the capital, a letter arrived from one of my mother’s colleagues that was addressed to me. Excited to receive my first piece of mail, I opened the envelope as swiftly as I could, not expecting to be launched to the ground by my reaction to what was inside: a live purple emperor butterfly. After recalibrating from the surprise, I called my parents to look at the guest in the apartment. The next few hours were spent playing a chasing game with the butterfly. I would get as close to it as I could until frightened by its l...