The garden of the watches: “Mordiendo la mano de quien nos da de comer”

The rhetoric of the social economy is where one is forced to perform a submissive and grateful attitude for being exploited and getting no guarantees. Even in seemingly socially engaged spaces, the same power structures evolve, we have no social security, or contributions to our pension and health insurance, even though we are exposed to eminent dangers of the passage.

We are THE WATCHERS of this ghostly passage, where no one comes statistically unless there is an orchestra of social histrionics, we witness the passing of time and the social ecology that evolves here, while the master an illusion and intangible for us, the same pantomime where looks we can land of the art visibility, it is a ridiculous performance of an old western man that we can all witness, - I feel sorry for them- performing this dance of self-value through the stage of sinology, in Cologne and in Paris.

) hehehe

What they do not know is that we are an army of tired Dahlias, which roots back to the plant’s ability to withstand harsh conditions. These flowers make the best gift for someone you admire or perceive as a strong person.

We are a premonition of change. This is a damnation spell for the master that precarious our labor:

Which of your demons or allies Hushed up to the surface of this spell? Dearest, history surfaces in the blood that colours our lips.

I wondered if I should feel all the unfelt shame of the ones who had come from my place before me. Or perhaps it’s not possible to carry someone else’s unfelt shame. Just the demons wriggling underneath. - the worst demon is the one who doesn’t love at all. Its color is slate. — Multi/direction Bio/poetics, Nia Davies

That is your color dear master by the power of me steering to the emptiness of the passage I discharge the power of your ‘evil eye‘ in the schluesselbund.

We let the door open for those who were not meant to cross it