Zirkumflex

What are seeds if not ideas?
Seeds and ideas are human’s substance, human’s lifeblood… Sap! It’s always Deleuze’s Hyle, this continuum amorphous that bounds everything together in cosmos, that through desire produces life as creation, as knowledge, but as tyranny as well.

What are seeds if not the desiring dialogue of humans and nature?
What do seeds carry within them if not human knowledge?
What are ideas if not the praxis of human happiness in Earth?
Why hinder this praxis?
Why unbound this relation to Earth through exclusivity?
(The human problem consists in obtaining from earth the greatest amount of general happiness José Oiticica).
What are ideas if not the process of production of the cosmos, of the univocal process of production of man and nature as one, as desire?

Occident’s history of progress is the denial of this bound through abstract deaths they call truths. But nonetheless, there are words of truth, humble ones that vanish in the accomplishment of their affection. To speak with true word lasts the moment of its enunciation, of its performance – it is not its desire to last an eternity as the State’s rotten dead letters, as the petrification of the death sentences of the colonizers of labor – life congealed and concealed. These truths last the duration of their spoken moist, of their germination, of their warm vibrato, that hopefully will carry on, mouth-to-mouth, soil-to-soil, as warm lifeblood. There is no possible affectivity – of experiencing moist and warmth – in reading constitutions, contracts, laws, testaments and school texts, as the warmth we experience reading about life. Notwithstanding the printed matter that carries these words of truth, codifying them, they raise our temperature. Notwithstanding the machine that cuts ink’s continuum, printing it into word-images subject to law, we become happy and willing to pay any price – because this warm flux is life.