Untitled|four nineteen—four ‘untimely meditations’

Los olivos palidecen—
pero mi amor busca el heurto

—but two has never been a number.


‘Tan, tan / Who’s there? / Autumn again. / What do you want? / The coolness of your temple. / You can’t have it. / I’ll take it. / Knock, knock! / Who’s there? / Autumn again.’


‘At this point in history, how can we talk about private events? Or private moments? When we have television and phones inside our homes, when our bodies have been legislated by the state?’ (Felix Gonzalez-Torres, 1993)