A circle of young: vicious. A circle of young: smells like sugar. A circle of young: why such organization? Around what? Around how? And into the circle is assimilation. Meaning: The girl with blue eyes is a foreigner. Xenophobic is a fawning. It smells delicious, of lavender and his mother: He slept with her. So as to understand false pieties and false ambitions and false greed. The girl with blue eyes is a situation of assimilation. As if the advertisements were getting the better of her. No, no, not a drink, a Coca-Cola. Pronunciation various according to location. The girl with blue eyes is a vixen. The foreigner approaches the game. The game is (pretend it is a game) too hard. She is not of this place Round One: What is old and smells of the attic? What is young and smells of the collaborator? The smell of sugar is high in the wind. As if a dying sugar cane had dispersed itself. As if the dying nation needed to profit from its youth. Blue eyes. Such luxury. Her mother must have had beautiful ideas to make her that way. We haven’t seen it for years. Centuries. Before the ice and the concept of the ice. Before the end of material difference. The blank with blank eyes is a blank. And think of what you know to be true: Her eyes are not blue unless blue has its own currency. So why do they persist? Why do they do it to us? Vampires. Cannibals. Strangers. Make them stop.
The Uses of Distortion
(appendix to the forgotten ) See character see costume see ambassador conjugate of toreador: Country of origin see that night I fell in love (wrong man). Race and ethnicity see mauve suite for women. see my boss is the mouth of god. I went to another country as an ambassador, she begins, and there I read the newspapers. There was something so lovely about the reportage. All the reason. He counters when I first came to your country (challenging her) I was in love with the perfection of your apples. It seems a lewd thing to say but she knows he has contempt for the perfection of form. Press conference. Press harder. She awakens from her gray jacket ( ). She can't help but feel the air of her bourgeois life thickening like a locket. This day beginning now ( ) in this morning and the life to which it is bound. She is holding up the finger of an illiterate woman in triumph. He says release that finger I want to use it. Here begins the next bracketing of their encounter. She has already decided that her own life that thing she wears around is nothing. I would give it to you. He says I spend hours in the supermarket. She says I have no idea how to shop. He would press that finger onto paper and call it meditations. The official press release does not. Press instead ensnare. The Saint of the hand. The men here are terrible lovers, she says. where I come from they are not lovers but disciples. Their fixation on women's bodies is a form of disassociation, he says. She has already decided that nothing could mean more to her than serving the greater design. She says There is every reason to be optimistic. As a painter, he is understood to be inarticulate. Can she imagine herself really IN a country ( )? The closet of mauve and blue suits. The belief that she can not be naked. Her face an illumination of her non-nakedness. Her face a clothing advertisement. She wears it well. She says I congratulate the women of this region. He says Aren't you of this region? She says It's like a dark room where you talk to everyone deeply but without seeing them. Good Friday. Her hand in yours. She says Everything we do makes us safer. He says I painted you naked. Here a hell of sorts enters. Hers. His. That of the (nation).