In these strangely recognizable times in which everything, at last, has managed to be what it seems and that is why no one needs to know how to look anymore, one of the best ways to know and speak with criteria about something that is pointed out to us and showed it to us, is not to look at it directly. While we persistently arguing about whether the moon was trampled on or not, our only way out is to focus our gaze on the finger forcing it to point at our stupid teenage rebellion. We are not the hero but the monstrous guardian of a real message that we can never convey because, before, our will freezes everything.

Not looking can save us but it is not as easy as it seems. Before, we must recognize what should not be looked at. In that sense, the hero has it much easier than us. The hero can escape but, on the other hand, we can only go, again and again, to that place that we think we do not know, which is what the gods do when no one sees them and they behave like heroes.

One possible strategy is to resort to art, but art, if it does not teach us not to look, has no choice but to take refuge in beauty, and we are talking about a face-to-face. Therefore, you should hide from art or it will become more and more like you. On the other hand, the deformity, the soil and the lie, by definition, do not accept being unobserved and therefore, they would serve us too much for our purpose. The only way to recognize what should not be looked at is through the eyes of debased children. Thus, mothers are the only possible visible example of our ego and the only chance we have to be forgiven.

In these strange times when, at last, it is possible to speak properly on some matters, the monstrosity and freedom that together before so bothered us, now they no longer do so because we have exceeded our will, like the gods blinded by the incompression and rejection. Because of that, art will continue without forgiving us and it will always prefer to traumatize our gaze in order to make us happy.

Hidden from art, therefore, we only have our hands, silenced during  censorship of centuries, to be able to speak judiciously. Get rid of all the objects that interrupt your hands in order to be able to destroy everything, yourself, your interests and the most beautiful forms. Empty your hands to leave only ashes in their wake, like a maddened army, with enough soul to feel that we are advancing, again, towards the fire.

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