through europe - death http://th-rough.eu/taxonomy/term/206/0 en Satanic exorcisms upon the surfacing of truth http://th-rough.eu/writers/bifo-eng/satanic-exorcisms-upon-surfacing-truth <span class='print-link'></span><div class="rtejustify"> I&rsquo;m not a fan of Nanni Moretti and I don&rsquo;t like all his movies, but when I watched <em>Habemus papam</em> I fell on my knees recognizing the greatness of this film. Despite being set against the Barroque background of the Church of Rome &ndash; mundane manifestation of otherworldly power, &ndash; the movie in fact focuses on contemporary depression: the world built by men has gone beyond human reach, entering the orbit of a technical divinity who has escaped human control. The world that technical power has subtracted from divine will is too complex, too fast. It is so cruel that it cannot be elaborated according to the categories of human thought. The category of divinity itself is only the frail projection of human illusion, and God is useless when we can finally understand the ultimate truth: that there is no truth in our history, no hope &ndash; only the pleasure of senses and poetry, and the pleasure of collective construction, which is collective illusion, a sensuous bridge over the abyss of the inexistence of meaning. <em>Caminante no hay camino, el camino se hace al andar</em>.</div> <div class="rtejustify"> When we know that there is no path and no arrival point, walking demands an exceeding amount of energy. And energy gets exhausted when entropy gets hold of the brain.</div> <p><a href="http://th-rough.eu/writers/bifo-eng/satanic-exorcisms-upon-surfacing-truth" target="_blank">read more</a></p> bifo-eng ageing Benedict XVI death depression mortality retirement Satan English Thu, 14 Feb 2013 12:06:01 +0000 Franco Berardi Bifo 315 at http://th-rough.eu bleached bones http://th-rough.eu/writers/tragicoptimist-eng/bleached-bones <span class='print-link'></span><p class="rtejustify"> <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Cambria; ">he died on tuesday. sick in the head. while he sighed, murmuring lies to the priest that preached, while prevaricating. while his sweat slid salty, clothes soaked with the life him leaving.</span></p> <p class="p4 rtejustify"> send him away and the priest ceases. close the door and she stoops. holding his left hand hard. holding back, his hair grey. in the darkness of a silence. only two consumed candles, scarcely illuminating. his spent gaze. and hard white sheets of marble.</p> <p class="p4 rtejustify"> my love, i leave. trapped here inside, i die with his body. you must me forgive, i not able. to live this life until the end. to do after all that infinite fatigue of. returning what i receive : everything.</p> <p><a href="http://th-rough.eu/writers/tragicoptimist-eng/bleached-bones" target="_blank">read more</a></p> tragicoptimist-eng death dissection fiction flesh multitudes English Sat, 23 Jul 2011 18:21:17 +0000 tragicoptimist 193 at http://th-rough.eu