instagram: an archive of antimethod practice

////// this account is a reflection of a hyper-simulated self. not more real than anything else. or any more true. what you see here can be nonsense. a poem about love is a poem about death. You will see an image of my face and think it to be my face. numbers and letters. taxonomies and indexical characters in a digital soup. where it’s all the easier to calculate my waste, a place where the corporeal has no place. so if we talk about death here, it should mean nothing. Or else everything. And may we pretend it to be in this way totalizing.