Zero zone of an egotistical catastrophe hidden by the nebula of its chronicles that make it recognizable, like the tail of some comets, by the beautiful manifestation that emanates from its own deconstructive wear and combustion, beautiful mortal wake of the throbbing life of oneself who says no to himself, someone kind, accomplice and friend (and quite the opposite too), with the necessary violence and cruelty to be able to live up to his ruthless way of understanding kindness.
An almost-self generous to the point of naivety for being always and without limit or control, as much and as excessively as the laziness of his charmingly pusillanimous being, lucid and as dangerous to himself as every sociopath is.
Not being so much a self as the unstructured result of a senseless humor invested with convulsive anxieties between the "on" and the "off" of his intermittent soul. An elusive bar of soap even for himself, what to say for those who presume to know him and only have a soap bubble that bursts as soon as they get too close.
Text by: joseluiscañadasoler
Illustration by: Silvia Cosio