Incluso pensando en alguna imagen quieta, ésta tiembla en mi memoria.
Sergi Botella, Pink Freud
work in progress
There is something maddeningly attractive about the untranslatable, about a word that goes silent in transit.
The ritual or trance happens by itself. All ends up on the paper like automatic writing or stream of consciousness. Or like a ouija. Many ghosts also appear there. The choice of colour and type of ink must be made according to the same logic, in an effort for a redskin instinct, this is difficult but whenever it happens it means you’re well inside the rave and that’s ok.