The telephone exchange … bmm bmm; nothing. Automatic voices. Once I get through, finally!, speak to a real person, it is to someone in India. I am not speaking to anyone with whom I can talk directly (as a corporeal equal). There is a displacement. (A displacement in time and space, in culture and language.) I interface with software. A kind of computer subsystem inside another subsystem, a virtual substance: an inexistence so that I don’t exist, for it ‘is’ only as a fiction, as ‘awareness’. Home is inside a nothing ‘not nothing’.
