To the library without a catalogue was given a name, pathless land. In it, the movement of desire and fear, submerged.
To preserve his freedom, Man has once again created fortresses, sometimes walls. He said - «Here. It's mine.» - and many were the times when he was afraid, lonesome, inside his own fortress.
Would an archive without a catalogue be earnable of such name? An archive. Who should one ask?
In this stronghold, the lack of decision devised tracks tapes cigarettes books journals cigars scientific fiction books interviews noir films critique littéraire essays romances history historical romances Orient botany philosophy philology astrology bourbon cigars books West books thesaurus small books little books notes manuscripts restricted writings on paper numbers letters an action! If only i could burn all the files in the world without fear of forgetting because it will come, it will come, it as already arrived, change the tim - further ahead - but to edify in togetherness all the knoled- in another note - always start with - incomprehensible handwriting followed by - beating egg whites to stiff peak- and also - «governments really have to look deeper into the senility of peoples» - finally, a simple note showed a way.
On June 20, 1974, Daniele B. Cooper - misty biography, unknown nationality - travels to Portugal accompanied by so many other spectators of the revolution. Fascims never more - they said, a new beginning on the arisen. About Daniele, few words remain. During her stay, she is thought to have developed a series of happenings in the city of Lisbon. Sometimes they end up occurring every hour, unceasingly.
Those who saw them left written guidelines to reenact the performances. A study on light, transience and the civilian objects of change, to which Cooper seems to have particular appraisal.
Slivery piece of paper addressed to the readers, unwearying knowledge workers. Would there be a voice who has an answer to the enigmas that dominated the one who, in an immense desire for action, took the care to keep each word, each image, until covering himself, one at a time, and so piercing a pathless land, sleep.