Words that are organs. Ghosts that are organs. Desires that are organs.

What belongs to us? What has been given to us by “killing” our being/desiring?

I die when you say who I am (word), where I come from (ghost) and what I want (desire). But what if I kill instead of dying?

Language involves not only an object, feeling or defining idea, but also an ethic – a law that delimits it and thus gives it an identity. A ghost.

Thus each word carries the ghost that writes it. And so each experience is unique, depending on the narrative of it that is presented. This is of how it has built the words and organs that shape it.

How do we define ourselves without resorting to our name, age, origin, family, profession, tastes or interests, traumas, fears, society, loves – without everything that ties us to the specific?

In an act of searching for the global, unique, pure IDEA, there was an attempt to apprehend the literary work in order to extract its essence. This desire, however, is impossible to fulfil. Whenever we get close to the horizon of the finite, essential, true idea, we load ourselves with new organs with which to take a step. It is an endless task. There is no clearly delimited interior and exterior. If we get rid of our organs, we don't have the capacity to orient our movement.

Don't compromise your desire, don't renounce the Other, since your desire is the Other and therefore your life's essence. Touching on madness in order to smell the true desire that belongs to us.

“Until we die, the only option is always to kill, always to kill.”