viernes, mayo 26, 2006


"But, old story, we know we are unique, whether we are eccentric or average, if anyone can be so. Today in a class a professor explained how a sign’s value is defined by the simultaneous existence of the other signs that compose the system, in opposition to them and their significance. At first, that made me think of myself as the inhabitant of a hole, specially designed for me, exclusively for my body and personality, a place were only I can fit in, but from which I cannot get out. Never. I imagined a Borgean labyrinth made of those bricks that are the holes where each of us lives. More than six thousand million of them. It exasperated me.

Then, I realized that I couldn’t be me if the others didn’t exist. What’s a man’s identity in a lost, deserted island? He would be Humanity as a whole. He would definitely be unique, yet that uniqueness would lack value. Because we feel unique in comparison to something else, so that imaginary man would only be… alone. Identity is a negative construction and in its building we are constantly getting further away from the rest. Perhaps until we reach that imaginary island. Old story again."

Extracto de mi editorial de Write On! Me, Buenos Aires Herald, 8 de mayo de 2006

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