Our band plays on to the trumpet of Melancholy whores. Who plays the pink? One, two, multiple or the null ‘one’? The ecstasy of the multiple corrugates to infinite, breaking the somnambulist ring. Grand design justifies the order to legislate will, the human providence, inhuman. Multiple breaks in finite molecule, break on through to the other side. Existence debunks the molecular ring, but still lethargy. Nothing nothings, with its miniature rings. But plasmatic one, broken and stilted, persists. I love the Connors of Honours. Language mythicized. Philosophies Francoise Truffaut like humane in the inhuman. Techniques are there to make the curves full circle. Vicious. Mechanized body’s naturalization for finitude. Classing opera disturbs distrusts. Who are for the rupture, the uncountable in counting, the ‘theyself’? Dream analysis, perfecting incognito. Life follow suit. Liking the plenitude, rearing back windows, I love the stuff. Wealth nurtures nothings. Ring is all that there is. Molecular one broken, for infinite decimal, curvature. Let us not be perfect. Perfection may amount for total recall, by making and remaking human aptitude. Lonesome sighs of history. The arduous path, dust. Reminding of molecular time. Infinite breaks the spell. One among many one, thousand years. Axiomatic journey, ordered. Hopes further, walking through various time zones. Plenitude and adulthood. Who is here, in time and, of time, to whistle the parting of ways? Ways distinct in its zonal ecrits. Zones of times, various remembering. Step third back, no more internationalism. Backing the Nations of state, bordering of similitude. Life gets pent up in the caged house of context historical. Where is our Tierra del Fuego? Where is my solemn passage, her lips of Galapagos Island?
Tweedle Twee erupts with venom. Unknown passage of childhood, the Terai Hills. Laughable stock of Holiness. Me playing the band leader. Then my interiorized anterior of small town Renaissance. Anterior doors open for the ruffians. Murderous gangs, parting ways of dissimilar Ones. Heroine trooping. Unpunished me? Never like before! The governing attitude of the capital, with small hills. My plasmatic state of known axiomatic journey. Perspectives might not be All? All as infinite breakage. Loving the truth, perspectives might not be everything. One and all might be for the social sciences. Not distinguishable with human and physical sciences. Moronic nothings. Disapprove it with dissimilar one and plasmatic ones and infinitive language. Manyness as One. Long live Spinoza, Leibniz and Dr. Althusser. De-structuring the cinematic scopes of regime. Photographic substance. Phenomena cannot be nothing, yet it intrudes, gazing the otherized self. No hood. No hiding now. Anything comes and goes, substantial references remain. Earth as infinite planet, grace as nature. Graceful habits, naturalized as intervening acts. Efficiency might not be the final, yet final is cause of efficiency. Our final act to break the solitude. Endless road of human cradle. Plenitude and gas chamber commerce of historians. Gas as dense love for staging the great suicidal drama. Post-Phenomena. Post-Ford. Existence as innate other. Her randomness. Yet, there was someone. With handful of cakes, and her Galapagos self. From much before. Her solitary laugh and love. My pride with hereness and her. Southern globality, merges with north, will merge the north. I love to be with her.
This article is dedicated to Dr. Partha Chatterjee, Dr. Soumyabrata Choudhury, Dr. Abhijit Roy and Dr. Gayatri Chakravorty Spivak. Not to mention, my only beloved. All for her.
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The author has extinguished existentialism through the sentence ‘ the ecstasy of multiple corrugates to infinite’. Does “Somnambulist ring’ break? nothinging nothing.
What is the ‘Grand Design” It is similar to that visualised by Stephen Hawking. Liked it.