I can’t resist the body, a machine with its cogs and wires and patterns, whic revolts against itself, devours itself, but can never resist the natural force of its parts and falls again and again into the pattern. The need to destroy is the desire to move against the system and to destroy itself, to be impossible, undone, to escape and to revolt is to have hope for a different beginning, a change of pattern and all that could be before the beginning. And with it, comes the melancholy of the impossible-of something that could only be imagined. and as a result, the joy of hearing the concrete crumple, melt or move to the threshold of breaking while the machine thrives to function. (GS)
