It's called the hall of witnesses. They want you to experience what it's like to be in the presence of no one, to live in that indigenous region of the jungle that is a kind of Disneyland, a simulacra of people who live in that area. It is a special house for serpents and it looks like an ark. What attracted them to this place? Is it the hearing trumpet in the architecture that molds to the landscape? Perhaps.
They fantasized together. They placed this creation in the lineage of memories, where humans could honor nature. If you are being attacked by a watch or a tree or Camembert, you are being attacked by decay, by delirium--the secret road to paranoia and schizophrenia. For them, nothing is taboo, but madness can become a tool of knowledge. They don't always reveal what you're looking for, or even anything. They simply mean to show you the cycles of nature, blowing with dust, where you can make a living archive.
So who cannibalizes whom? My life does not fit into their frontier of survival, into an English picnic on the grass. It is embarrassing. But as fate would have it in my life, it slides off my back like wearing a raincoat. I am a cabinet of curiosities, synchronicities; you should hope to live as long. The provenance of the works in Wonderland is their thing; it does not have to be mine.
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