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Blackboard entry by Eloïse Vene

Posted—04/2014

Infinite.

 

The infinite, this shape of solitude in which we lock ourselves to try to understand at which moment that begins stops. This expectation perms in this deafening silence, without knowing when that is going to stop. It pushing us in a shape of ceaseless narcissism.

 

Posted by Eloïse Vene, France