New Criticals

I walked then I stopped at an improbable level between the dome and the desert, right in the middle of a footbridge that will soon vanish, finally moving inside the genesis of the dome or, better, inside the theory of space, inside the structure that will become invisible when the Louvre is unveiled – and from that knot, I felt that the entire space was open to my thought and that among all the thoughts that equally presented themselves to me, I could choose the one with which to begin to walk again.

But I did not.

Only the future can tell me what thought I will have tomorrow. All I know today is that the passage has closed up and it is my body that no longer has a choice. When the engine is stopped, only gravitation can determine the trajectory. The museum of the desert holds me now with a force stronger than thought. 

It attracts me into the walk that constitutes thought, into the heart of the construction of space and into the birth of geometry – not a walk that is framed by space but a walk that penetrates space. It attracts me into a walk that is the beginning of thought.