Subaltern Sayings
I heard of a man who followed his loved one around a nation. One night, in a quiet terrain of one house, he had started to throw stones at that house. In the house was the woman he loved. After a short while, he was destroying the house...The siege had finished and she said yes to him.
To those who belong, the continuing of a subaltern's criticism is burdensome and repetitive. It's the same for the subaltern.
It can only get better - it must be because I'm Italian, says the subaltern.
The subaltern contracts gigantism. In isolation he is taught by much dust to polish himself. Til he becomes a law within the law, there will be no peace. A spun wheel may offer a gift. Strangers gaze and can't but help be drawn to him on the street - they even inocuously bump into him like walking street moths.
Two poles maketh a magnet. That's the modest truth up a sleeve. The subaltern's lesson is to accept smiles in the absence of magic. The temptation is always the disclosure of power. Magnetism causes drift.
The subaltern crafts projection in their art. If he sniggers lowly, contagiously or becomes breathless easily then by flip mutations, these become the audience's qualities. Flip away, rabbit of ages.
It's a clumsy path to the polis, to be polished, to be policed, to the fame of medieval Katowice.
Somehow the quality of trash is seen in its pretence. Mainland Europe's landfills, blessed trailer parks of the Anglosphere, the human holon in lieu of any given cosmos.
Without the subaltern, the demiurge's machine fails to work optimally. With it, it's liable to ruin small sections. We know how we make one but why do we make them?
The delusion is that confinement brings legacy. This does eventuate sometimes. Death follows near limbs. It falls from trees, it gets shocked by currents, struck unluckily by lightning.
