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Suspicion, 2011

I Look, and I suspect myself in the Viewed. Trying to find the texts - the keys deepen the suspicion as if I were part of the speech. Whose speech? Who Speaks to me? Who do I speak to, or do I speak if I don't have a word, and I myself is someone's word? Perhaps I am a part of the speaking universe, whose speaking is limited by speaking, and the frequency of appearance of new meanings-sounds disperses the flow of its particles, which allows the continuation of existence, existence as a game with the purpose of pleasure from the game only? But pleasure has long been put under suspicion.

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