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different world beneath the beds. It has dropped the case, has circular road in the floor and stopped at that portion unattainable under the bed. Reach out and not have to go and then to understand the different world beneath the beds. Or on that side of the sites where you never are. The interior of a car while someone washes the car. The white soap filling glasses, not seeing, and you control the volume of a song by Mogwai playing against the water pressure drops in the opposite way from the rain. Find perfect song against water and squinting to convince you that these two figures are sensed beyond the white are just two lost horses crossing the center of the road. Seeing clearly the mammalian body, guess aunque te ciegue el jabón, mirarlos pasar tranquilos, disolverse a ratos y luego volver, moverse lentos pero con la fuerza con la que se mueve un caballo. Entonces la claridad. Verla entrar, preguntarle: ¿Has visto eso? Y ella: Pero si ahí no hay nada.

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Se mueven en forma de ruido. Están ahí y quizá tú deberías también estar ahí. Son esa gente sin nombre que hay en los lugares en los que tú no estás. A lo mejor un concierto. Supones que un concierto (aplausos) y empiezas por cerrarlo todo. Pero no existe la forma de escaparse del ruido. The noise comes and goes you and goes with that force to get very pure sounds, everything sounds and do not want to hear. Sanctify quiet, trying to save a few square meters, almost any square meter. Lower the light, remember the silence of the seabed or the invisible sound that sometimes makes the water. Especially down the light, turn to memories and no one speaks the hands enough to understand everything. They are more than you and could, for example, come and take the house. Start with noise by moving the foundation, reaching up to go, where are you in this sanctuary of memories yellow voiceless. Listening from inside to Juan Gelman said, "and stay", or pronouncing the sentence Charlotte Gainsbourg: "I walk in a line."

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Us. The open body. Take a breath, tinnitus. Then hear the white noise, no power, no sense. Write in a small role: My resignation. Then swallowed the small role. Or not do anything with the small role. Draw up a snail distracted while talking to someone. Sound remember, remember the body, whole body, five in the afternoon at Bozar and pictures of Frida Kahlo. Remember how people out there without being stopped, to look the spots with blue ink on the paper. "Diego, I'm alone." And he: Will close, come on. And Frida: Diego capitalized. Maybe SOLA also capitalized. Do not know. Have you looked cool food in the dishes. She smoked sometimes explained with his hands in a new way to comb. You looking at food. Knowing that the sound would reach the right ear. "Tinnitus is defined as the perception of sound without any external sound source from which it originates." But then transforms. It is not a "pure tone and simple" nor "a complex noise as rumor of the sea, steam, or a bell cricket." Frida's diary is a night for years. It is his writing in capitals DIEGO'm alone. Maybe ONLY in capital letters. Do not remember. But Insurance Diego, Diego and Frida written and waiting. A different night tonight, especially with different temperature. Otherwise surely smelled and was inside of another house. But remember now, arriving just now, and that sound turns out there on that very page daily.