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LA MAGIA CHANERA (PARTE 1): ACCIONES COLECTIVAS GRAMATIZADAS Y POLÍTICAS DE ‘MIERDA’ 》ENSAYO PUBLICADO POR CAJA NEGRA ed.

INTER* 》comisariado de exposición colectiva en torno a la ausencia de imaginarios intersex en el Sant Andreu Contemporani de Barcelona

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    THE WAY OF GRIEF (Núria Gómez Gabriel, 2023):  Veronica wipes the face of Jesus. In fact, veronica is the veil with which, according to the Bible, a character the evangelists tell us nothing about and is in all probability an invention of Christian piety and tenderness would have been moved to wipe the dirty, painful and bloody face of Jesus on the Way of Grief. Veronica is the canvas, the impression in blood and shit, the vera icono, the image, the trace, the material spectre evoking all those faces disfigured by anger, rage, shouting and slander. How wound and mistreatment, having passed the traces of filth and death onto the image, deserve the attention of all those who want to know their stomach, wipe away their sweat and drink their life-giving blood.   or how. We do not give a damn about God’s love. What brings us together here is a collection of parables, mini-stories, frightening tales of kisses and bites, leaps into the void, bridges, fiery little tongues and cleansing ceremonies. These tales accompany us in the task of considering an ethics of disorientation, mourning and woundedness. Sour to the taste, unpleasant, poisonous. A mental or emotional state that corrodes or gnaws away. Bitterness. Resentment. An ethics of disorientation will always be unhinged. It applies to the present time. Perverse. Deadly and pink. A time that is disjointed, disrupted, dislocated, unhinged, harassed and disturbed, unbalanced and at the same time unkempt and crazy. A time that is perceived to be populated by immaterial presences, which often haunt us, watch over us or even possess us, to the point of psychosis. Where. Bringing to the foreground the ghosts of the material. Existential detour. The blood of sheep. A state similar to how we behave in loss and grief, or how we act under the blinding effects of a gaseous light. Ángel peligrosamente búho teja. You could be here. No, here. Where. For an ethics of disorientation, one needs to lose the body, and with the body perspective, and with perspective the perception of feeling at home. Migrant orientation. Gospel. Looking in two directions. A lost home. Hetero. A place that is not yet home. Cupid. Spores. Yoghurt. The straight lines of desire shatter and fall, prolonging the body, creating new outlines by a disorienting effect that makes us feel familiar places as points of pressure, of suffocation or asphyxiation, of obligation to renounce oneself. Compressed light. Trail of blood. Quickly. Other lines of desire appear in the failure of the experience beyond the straight lines that configured its initial orientation. Where. The world invents its compulsory narratives. Where. Where is here. Here is a spectre. The spectre is queer, like Veronica. We cannot establish it in our understanding, for it is a movement that sways in the shadows of the in-between. Hegemonic spectres, those living in the lights. Revolutionary ghosts, hidden in the shadows of memory. They come from the past and murmur from the futures we have imagined. They simultaneously speak to us of the fear in that which is beyond our comprehension and out of view. Symptomatic of the prospective limitations of the time in which it has been invoked, making visible its deep state of mind and stealthily participating in its cultural trends. or how. — THE WAY OF GRIEF (Núria Gómez Gabriel, 2023):  Veronica wipes the face of Jesus. In fact, veronica is the veil with which, according to the Bible, a character the evangelists tell us nothing about and is in all probability an invention of Christian piety and tenderness would have been moved to wipe the dirty, painful and bloody face of Jesus on the Way of Grief. Veronica is the canvas, the impression in blood and shit, the vera icono, the image, the trace, the material spectre evoking all those faces disfigured by anger, rage, shouting and slander. How wound and mistreatment, having passed the traces of filth and death onto the image, deserve the attention of all those who want to know their stomach, wipe away their sweat and drink their life-giving blood.   or how. We do not give a damn about God’s love. What brings us together here is a collection of parables, mini-stories, frightening tales of kisses and bites, leaps into the void, bridges, fiery little tongues and cleansing ceremonies. These tales accompany us in the task of considering an ethics of disorientation, mourning and woundedness. Sour to the taste, unpleasant, poisonous. A mental or emotional state that corrodes or gnaws away. Bitterness. Resentment. An ethics of disorientation will always be unhinged. It applies to the present time. Perverse. Deadly and pink. A time that is disjointed, disrupted, dislocated, unhinged, harassed and disturbed, unbalanced and at the same time unkempt and crazy. A time that is perceived to be populated by immaterial presences, which often haunt us, watch over us or even possess us, to the point of psychosis. Where. Bringing to the foreground the ghosts of the material. Existential detour. The blood of sheep. A state similar to how we behave in loss and grief, or how we act under the blinding effects of a gaseous light. Ángel peligrosamente búho teja. You could be here. No, here. Where. For an ethics of disorientation, one needs to lose the body, and with the body perspective, and with perspective the perception of feeling at home. Migrant orientation. Gospel. Looking in two directions. A lost home. Hetero. A place that is not yet home. Cupid. Spores. Yoghurt. The straight lines of desire shatter and fall, prolonging the body, creating new outlines by a disorienting effect that makes us feel familiar places as points of pressure, of suffocation or asphyxiation, of obligation to renounce oneself. Compressed light. Trail of blood. Quickly. Other lines of desire appear in the failure of the experience beyond the straight lines that configured its initial orientation. Where. The world invents its compulsory narratives. Where. Where is here. Here is a spectre. The spectre is queer, like Veronica. We cannot establish it in our understanding, for it is a movement that sways in the shadows of the in-between. Hegemonic spectres, those living in the lights. Revolutionary ghosts, hidden in the shadows of memory. They come from the past and murmur from the futures we have imagined. They simultaneously speak to us of the fear in that which is beyond our comprehension and out of view. Symptomatic of the prospective limitations of the time in which it has been invoked, making visible its deep state of mind and stealthily participating in its cultural trends. or how. — THE WAY OF GRIEF (Núria Gómez Gabriel, 2023):  Veronica wipes the face of Jesus. In fact, veronica is the veil with which, according to the Bible, a character the evangelists tell us nothing about and is in all probability an invention of Christian piety and tenderness would have been moved to wipe the dirty, painful and bloody face of Jesus on the Way of Grief. Veronica is the canvas, the impression in blood and shit, the vera icono, the image, the trace, the material spectre evoking all those faces disfigured by anger, rage, shouting and slander. How wound and mistreatment, having passed the traces of filth and death onto the image, deserve the attention of all those who want to know their stomach, wipe away their sweat and drink their life-giving blood.   or how. We do not give a damn about God’s love. What brings us together here is a collection of parables, mini-stories, frightening tales of kisses and bites, leaps into the void, bridges, fiery little tongues and cleansing ceremonies. These tales accompany us in the task of considering an ethics of disorientation, mourning and woundedness. Sour to the taste, unpleasant, poisonous. A mental or emotional state that corrodes or gnaws away. Bitterness. Resentment. An ethics of disorientation will always be unhinged. It applies to the present time. Perverse. Deadly and pink. A time that is disjointed, disrupted, dislocated, unhinged, harassed and disturbed, unbalanced and at the same time unkempt and crazy. A time that is perceived to be populated by immaterial presences, which often haunt us, watch over us or even possess us, to the point of psychosis. Where. Bringing to the foreground the ghosts of the material. Existential detour. The blood of sheep. A state similar to how we behave in loss and grief, or how we act under the blinding effects of a gaseous light. Ángel peligrosamente búho teja. You could be here. No, here. Where. For an ethics of disorientation, one needs to lose the body, and with the body perspective, and with perspective the perception of feeling at home. Migrant orientation. Gospel. Looking in two directions. A lost home. Hetero. A place that is not yet home. Cupid. Spores. Yoghurt. The straight lines of desire shatter and fall, prolonging the body, creating new outlines by a disorienting effect that makes us feel familiar places as points of pressure, of suffocation or asphyxiation, of obligation to renounce oneself. Compressed light. Trail of blood. Quickly. Other lines of desire appear in the failure of the experience beyond the straight lines that configured its initial orientation. Where. The world invents its compulsory narratives. Where. Where is here. Here is a spectre. The spectre is queer, like Veronica. We cannot establish it in our understanding, for it is a movement that sways in the shadows of the in-between. Hegemonic spectres, those living in the lights. Revolutionary ghosts, hidden in the shadows of memory. They come from the past and murmur from the futures we have imagined. They simultaneously speak to us of the fear in that which is beyond our comprehension and out of view. Symptomatic of the prospective limitations of the time in which it has been invoked, making visible its deep state of mind and stealthily participating in its cultural trends. or how. — THE WAY OF GRIEF (Núria Gómez Gabriel, 2023):  Veronica wipes the face of Jesus. In fact, veronica is the veil with which, according to the Bible, a character the evangelists tell us nothing about and is in all probability an invention of Christian piety and tenderness would have been moved to wipe the dirty, painful and bloody face of Jesus on the Way of Grief. Veronica is the canvas, the impression in blood and shit, the vera icono, the image, the trace, the material spectre evoking all those faces disfigured by anger, rage, shouting and slander. How wound and mistreatment, having passed the traces of filth and death onto the image, deserve the attention of all those who want to know their stomach, wipe away their sweat and drink their life-giving blood.   or how. We do not give a damn about God’s love. What brings us together here is a collection of parables, mini-stories, frightening tales of kisses and bites, leaps into the void, bridges, fiery little tongues and cleansing ceremonies. These tales accompany us in the task of considering an ethics of disorientation, mourning and woundedness. Sour to the taste, unpleasant, poisonous. A mental or emotional state that corrodes or gnaws away. Bitterness. Resentment. An ethics of disorientation will always be unhinged. It applies to the present time. Perverse. Deadly and pink. A time that is disjointed, disrupted, dislocated, unhinged, harassed and disturbed, unbalanced and at the same time unkempt and crazy. A time that is perceived to be populated by immaterial presences, which often haunt us, watch over us or even possess us, to the point of psychosis. Where. Bringing to the foreground the ghosts of the material. Existential detour. The blood of sheep. A state similar to how we behave in loss and grief, or how we act under the blinding effects of a gaseous light. Ángel peligrosamente búho teja. You could be here. No, here. Where. For an ethics of disorientation, one needs to lose the body, and with the body perspective, and with perspective the perception of feeling at home. Migrant orientation. Gospel. Looking in two directions. A lost home. Hetero. A place that is not yet home. Cupid. Spores. Yoghurt. The straight lines of desire shatter and fall, prolonging the body, creating new outlines by a disorienting effect that makes us feel familiar places as points of pressure, of suffocation or asphyxiation, of obligation to renounce oneself. Compressed light. Trail of blood. Quickly. Other lines of desire appear in the failure of the experience beyond the straight lines that configured its initial orientation. Where. The world invents its compulsory narratives. Where. Where is here. Here is a spectre. The spectre is queer, like Veronica. We cannot establish it in our understanding, for it is a movement that sways in the shadows of the in-between. Hegemonic spectres, those living in the lights. Revolutionary ghosts, hidden in the shadows of memory. They come from the past and murmur from the futures we have imagined. They simultaneously speak to us of the fear in that which is beyond our comprehension and out of view. Symptomatic of the prospective limitations of the time in which it has been invoked, making visible its deep state of mind and stealthily participating in its cultural trends. or how. — THE WAY OF GRIEF (Núria Gómez Gabriel, 2023):  Veronica wipes the face of Jesus. In fact, veronica is the veil with which, according to the Bible, a character the evangelists tell us nothing about and is in all probability an invention of Christian piety and tenderness would have been moved to wipe the dirty, painful and bloody face of Jesus on the Way of Grief. Veronica is the canvas, the impression in blood and shit, the vera icono, the image, the trace, the material spectre evoking all those faces disfigured by anger, rage, shouting and slander. How wound and mistreatment, having passed the traces of filth and death onto the image, deserve the attention of all those who want to know their stomach, wipe away their sweat and drink their life-giving blood.   or how. We do not give a damn about God’s love. What brings us together here is a collection of parables, mini-stories, frightening tales of kisses and bites, leaps into the void, bridges, fiery little tongues and cleansing ceremonies. These tales accompany us in the task of considering an ethics of disorientation, mourning and woundedness. Sour to the taste, unpleasant, poisonous. A mental or emotional state that corrodes or gnaws away. Bitterness. Resentment. An ethics of disorientation will always be unhinged. It applies to the present time. Perverse. Deadly and pink. A time that is disjointed, disrupted, dislocated, unhinged, harassed and disturbed, unbalanced and at the same time unkempt and crazy. A time that is perceived to be populated by immaterial presences, which often haunt us, watch over us or even possess us, to the point of psychosis. Where. Bringing to the foreground the ghosts of the material. Existential detour. The blood of sheep. A state similar to how we behave in loss and grief, or how we act under the blinding effects of a gaseous light. Ángel peligrosamente búho teja. You could be here. No, here. Where. For an ethics of disorientation, one needs to lose the body, and with the body perspective, and with perspective the perception of feeling at home. Migrant orientation. Gospel. Looking in two directions. A lost home. Hetero. A place that is not yet home. Cupid. Spores. Yoghurt. The straight lines of desire shatter and fall, prolonging the body, creating new outlines by a disorienting effect that makes us feel familiar places as points of pressure, of suffocation or asphyxiation, of obligation to renounce oneself. Compressed light. Trail of blood. Quickly. Other lines of desire appear in the failure of the experience beyond the straight lines that configured its initial orientation. Where. The world invents its compulsory narratives. Where. Where is here. Here is a spectre. The spectre is queer, like Veronica. We cannot establish it in our understanding, for it is a movement that sways in the shadows of the in-between. Hegemonic spectres, those living in the lights. Revolutionary ghosts, hidden in the shadows of memory. They come from the past and murmur from the futures we have imagined. They simultaneously speak to us of the fear in that which is beyond our comprehension and out of view. Symptomatic of the prospective limitations of the time in which it has been invoked, making visible its deep state of mind and stealthily participating in its cultural trends. or how. — THE WAY OF GRIEF (Núria Gómez Gabriel, 2023):  Veronica wipes the face of Jesus. In fact, veronica is the veil with which, according to the Bible, a character the evangelists tell us nothing about and is in all probability an invention of Christian piety and tenderness would have been moved to wipe the dirty, painful and bloody face of Jesus on the Way of Grief. Veronica is the canvas, the impression in blood and shit, the vera icono, the image, the trace, the material spectre evoking all those faces disfigured by anger, rage, shouting and slander. How wound and mistreatment, having passed the traces of filth and death onto the image, deserve the attention of all those who want to know their stomach, wipe away their sweat and drink their life-giving blood.   or how. We do not give a damn about God’s love. What brings us together here is a collection of parables, mini-stories, frightening tales of kisses and bites, leaps into the void, bridges, fiery little tongues and cleansing ceremonies. These tales accompany us in the task of considering an ethics of disorientation, mourning and woundedness. Sour to the taste, unpleasant, poisonous. A mental or emotional state that corrodes or gnaws away. Bitterness. Resentment. An ethics of disorientation will always be unhinged. It applies to the present time. Perverse. Deadly and pink. A time that is disjointed, disrupted, dislocated, unhinged, harassed and disturbed, unbalanced and at the same time unkempt and crazy. A time that is perceived to be populated by immaterial presences, which often haunt us, watch over us or even possess us, to the point of psychosis. Where. Bringing to the foreground the ghosts of the material. Existential detour. The blood of sheep. A state similar to how we behave in loss and grief, or how we act under the blinding effects of a gaseous light. Ángel peligrosamente búho teja. You could be here. No, here. Where. For an ethics of disorientation, one needs to lose the body, and with the body perspective, and with perspective the perception of feeling at home. Migrant orientation. Gospel. Looking in two directions. A lost home. Hetero. A place that is not yet home. Cupid. Spores. Yoghurt. The straight lines of desire shatter and fall, prolonging the body, creating new outlines by a disorienting effect that makes us feel familiar places as points of pressure, of suffocation or asphyxiation, of obligation to renounce oneself. Compressed light. Trail of blood. Quickly. Other lines of desire appear in the failure of the experience beyond the straight lines that configured its initial orientation. Where. The world invents its compulsory narratives. Where. Where is here. Here is a spectre. The spectre is queer, like Veronica. We cannot establish it in our understanding, for it is a movement that sways in the shadows of the in-between. Hegemonic spectres, those living in the lights. Revolutionary ghosts, hidden in the shadows of memory. They come from the past and murmur from the futures we have imagined. They simultaneously speak to us of the fear in that which is beyond our comprehension and out of view. Symptomatic of the prospective limitations of the time in which it has been invoked, making visible its deep state of mind and stealthily participating in its cultural trends. or how. — THE WAY OF GRIEF (Núria Gómez Gabriel, 2023):  Veronica wipes the face of Jesus. In fact, veronica is the veil with which, according to the Bible, a character the evangelists tell us nothing about and is in all probability an invention of Christian piety and tenderness would have been moved to wipe the dirty, painful and bloody face of Jesus on the Way of Grief. Veronica is the canvas, the impression in blood and shit, the vera icono, the image, the trace, the material spectre evoking all those faces disfigured by anger, rage, shouting and slander. How wound and mistreatment, having passed the traces of filth and death onto the image, deserve the attention of all those who want to know their stomach, wipe away their sweat and drink their life-giving blood.   or how. We do not give a damn about God’s love. What brings us together here is a collection of parables, mini-stories, frightening tales of kisses and bites, leaps into the void, bridges, fiery little tongues and cleansing ceremonies. These tales accompany us in the task of considering an ethics of disorientation, mourning and woundedness. Sour to the taste, unpleasant, poisonous. A mental or emotional state that corrodes or gnaws away. Bitterness. Resentment. An ethics of disorientation will always be unhinged. It applies to the present time. Perverse. Deadly and pink. A time that is disjointed, disrupted, dislocated, unhinged, harassed and disturbed, unbalanced and at the same time unkempt and crazy. A time that is perceived to be populated by immaterial presences, which often haunt us, watch over us or even possess us, to the point of psychosis. Where. Bringing to the foreground the ghosts of the material. Existential detour. The blood of sheep. A state similar to how we behave in loss and grief, or how we act under the blinding effects of a gaseous light. Ángel peligrosamente búho teja. You could be here. No, here. Where. For an ethics of disorientation, one needs to lose the body, and with the body perspective, and with perspective the perception of feeling at home. Migrant orientation. Gospel. Looking in two directions. A lost home. Hetero. A place that is not yet home. Cupid. Spores. Yoghurt. The straight lines of desire shatter and fall, prolonging the body, creating new outlines by a disorienting effect that makes us feel familiar places as points of pressure, of suffocation or asphyxiation, of obligation to renounce oneself. Compressed light. Trail of blood. Quickly. Other lines of desire appear in the failure of the experience beyond the straight lines that configured its initial orientation. Where. The world invents its compulsory narratives. Where. Where is here. Here is a spectre. The spectre is queer, like Veronica. We cannot establish it in our understanding, for it is a movement that sways in the shadows of the in-between. Hegemonic spectres, those living in the lights. Revolutionary ghosts, hidden in the shadows of memory. They come from the past and murmur from the futures we have imagined. They simultaneously speak to us of the fear in that which is beyond our comprehension and out of view. Symptomatic of the prospective limitations of the time in which it has been invoked, making visible its deep state of mind and stealthily participating in its cultural trends. or how. — THE WAY OF GRIEF (Núria Gómez Gabriel, 2023):  Veronica wipes the face of Jesus. In fact, veronica is the veil with which, according to the Bible, a character the evangelists tell us nothing about and is in all probability an invention of Christian piety and tenderness would have been moved to wipe the dirty, painful and bloody face of Jesus on the Way of Grief. Veronica is the canvas, the impression in blood and shit, the vera icono, the image, the trace, the material spectre evoking all those faces disfigured by anger, rage, shouting and slander. How wound and mistreatment, having passed the traces of filth and death onto the image, deserve the attention of all those who want to know their stomach, wipe away their sweat and drink their life-giving blood.   or how. We do not give a damn about God’s love. What brings us together here is a collection of parables, mini-stories, frightening tales of kisses and bites, leaps into the void, bridges, fiery little tongues and cleansing ceremonies. These tales accompany us in the task of considering an ethics of disorientation, mourning and woundedness. Sour to the taste, unpleasant, poisonous. A mental or emotional state that corrodes or gnaws away. Bitterness. Resentment. An ethics of disorientation will always be unhinged. It applies to the present time. Perverse. Deadly and pink. A time that is disjointed, disrupted, dislocated, unhinged, harassed and disturbed, unbalanced and at the same time unkempt and crazy. A time that is perceived to be populated by immaterial presences, which often haunt us, watch over us or even possess us, to the point of psychosis. Where. Bringing to the foreground the ghosts of the material. Existential detour. The blood of sheep. A state similar to how we behave in loss and grief, or how we act under the blinding effects of a gaseous light. Ángel peligrosamente búho teja. You could be here. No, here. Where. For an ethics of disorientation, one needs to lose the body, and with the body perspective, and with perspective the perception of feeling at home. Migrant orientation. Gospel. Looking in two directions. A lost home. Hetero. A place that is not yet home. Cupid. Spores. Yoghurt. The straight lines of desire shatter and fall, prolonging the body, creating new outlines by a disorienting effect that makes us feel familiar places as points of pressure, of suffocation or asphyxiation, of obligation to renounce oneself. Compressed light. Trail of blood. Quickly. Other lines of desire appear in the failure of the experience beyond the straight lines that configured its initial orientation. Where. The world invents its compulsory narratives. Where. Where is here. Here is a spectre. The spectre is queer, like Veronica. We cannot establish it in our understanding, for it is a movement that sways in the shadows of the in-between. Hegemonic spectres, those living in the lights. Revolutionary ghosts, hidden in the shadows of memory. They come from the past and murmur from the futures we have imagined. They simultaneously speak to us of the fear in that which is beyond our comprehension and out of view. Symptomatic of the prospective limitations of the time in which it has been invoked, making visible its deep state of mind and stealthily participating in its cultural trends. or how. — THE WAY OF GRIEF (Núria Gómez Gabriel, 2023):  Veronica wipes the face of Jesus. In fact, veronica is the veil with which, according to the Bible, a character the evangelists tell us nothing about and is in all probability an invention of Christian piety and tenderness would have been moved to wipe the dirty, painful and bloody face of Jesus on the Way of Grief. Veronica is the canvas, the impression in blood and shit, the vera icono, the image, the trace, the material spectre evoking all those faces disfigured by anger, rage, shouting and slander. How wound and mistreatment, having passed the traces of filth and death onto the image, deserve the attention of all those who want to know their stomach, wipe away their sweat and drink their life-giving blood.   or how. We do not give a damn about God’s love. What brings us together here is a collection of parables, mini-stories, frightening tales of kisses and bites, leaps into the void, bridges, fiery little tongues and cleansing ceremonies. These tales accompany us in the task of considering an ethics of disorientation, mourning and woundedness. Sour to the taste, unpleasant, poisonous. A mental or emotional state that corrodes or gnaws away. Bitterness. Resentment. An ethics of disorientation will always be unhinged. It applies to the present time. Perverse. Deadly and pink. A time that is disjointed, disrupted, dislocated, unhinged, harassed and disturbed, unbalanced and at the same time unkempt and crazy. A time that is perceived to be populated by immaterial presences, which often haunt us, watch over us or even possess us, to the point of psychosis. Where. Bringing to the foreground the ghosts of the material. Existential detour. The blood of sheep. A state similar to how we behave in loss and grief, or how we act under the blinding effects of a gaseous light. Ángel peligrosamente búho teja. You could be here. No, here. Where. For an ethics of disorientation, one needs to lose the body, and with the body perspective, and with perspective the perception of feeling at home. Migrant orientation. Gospel. Looking in two directions. A lost home. Hetero. A place that is not yet home. Cupid. Spores. Yoghurt. The straight lines of desire shatter and fall, prolonging the body, creating new outlines by a disorienting effect that makes us feel familiar places as points of pressure, of suffocation or asphyxiation, of obligation to renounce oneself. Compressed light. Trail of blood. Quickly. Other lines of desire appear in the failure of the experience beyond the straight lines that configured its initial orientation. Where. The world invents its compulsory narratives. Where. Where is here. Here is a spectre. The spectre is queer, like Veronica. We cannot establish it in our understanding, for it is a movement that sways in the shadows of the in-between. Hegemonic spectres, those living in the lights. Revolutionary ghosts, hidden in the shadows of memory. They come from the past and murmur from the futures we have imagined. They simultaneously speak to us of the fear in that which is beyond our comprehension and out of view. Symptomatic of the prospective limitations of the time in which it has been invoked, making visible its deep state of mind and stealthily participating in its cultural trends. or how. — THE WAY OF GRIEF (Núria Gómez Gabriel, 2023):  Veronica wipes the face of Jesus. In fact, veronica is the veil with which, according to the Bible, a character the evangelists tell us nothing about and is in all probability an invention of Christian piety and tenderness would have been moved to wipe the dirty, painful and bloody face of Jesus on the Way of Grief. Veronica is the canvas, the impression in blood and shit, the vera icono, the image, the trace, the material spectre evoking all those faces disfigured by anger, rage, shouting and slander. How wound and mistreatment, having passed the traces of filth and death onto the image, deserve the attention of all those who want to know their stomach, wipe away their sweat and drink their life-giving blood.   or how. We do not give a damn about God’s love. What brings us together here is a collection of parables, mini-stories, frightening tales of kisses and bites, leaps into the void, bridges, fiery little tongues and cleansing ceremonies. These tales accompany us in the task of considering an ethics of disorientation, mourning and woundedness. Sour to the taste, unpleasant, poisonous. A mental or emotional state that corrodes or gnaws away. Bitterness. Resentment. An ethics of disorientation will always be unhinged. It applies to the present time. Perverse. Deadly and pink. A time that is disjointed, disrupted, dislocated, unhinged, harassed and disturbed, unbalanced and at the same time unkempt and crazy. A time that is perceived to be populated by immaterial presences, which often haunt us, watch over us or even possess us, to the point of psychosis. Where. Bringing to the foreground the ghosts of the material. Existential detour. The blood of sheep. A state similar to how we behave in loss and grief, or how we act under the blinding effects of a gaseous light. Ángel peligrosamente búho teja. You could be here. No, here. Where. For an ethics of disorientation, one needs to lose the body, and with the body perspective, and with perspective the perception of feeling at home. Migrant orientation. Gospel. Looking in two directions. A lost home. Hetero. A place that is not yet home. Cupid. Spores. Yoghurt. The straight lines of desire shatter and fall, prolonging the body, creating new outlines by a disorienting effect that makes us feel familiar places as points of pressure, of suffocation or asphyxiation, of obligation to renounce oneself. Compressed light. Trail of blood. Quickly. Other lines of desire appear in the failure of the experience beyond the straight lines that configured its initial orientation. Where. The world invents its compulsory narratives. Where. Where is here. Here is a spectre. The spectre is queer, like Veronica. We cannot establish it in our understanding, for it is a movement that sways in the shadows of the in-between. Hegemonic spectres, those living in the lights. Revolutionary ghosts, hidden in the shadows of memory. They come from the past and murmur from the futures we have imagined. They simultaneously speak to us of the fear in that which is beyond our comprehension and out of view. Symptomatic of the prospective limitations of the time in which it has been invoked, making visible its deep state of mind and stealthily participating in its cultural trends. or how. — THE WAY OF GRIEF (Núria Gómez Gabriel, 2023):  Veronica wipes the face of Jesus. In fact, veronica is the veil with which, according to the Bible, a character the evangelists tell us nothing about and is in all probability an invention of Christian piety and tenderness would have been moved to wipe the dirty, painful and bloody face of Jesus on the Way of Grief. Veronica is the canvas, the impression in blood and shit, the vera icono, the image, the trace, the material spectre evoking all those faces disfigured by anger, rage, shouting and slander. How wound and mistreatment, having passed the traces of filth and death onto the image, deserve the attention of all those who want to know their stomach, wipe away their sweat and drink their life-giving blood.   or how. We do not give a damn about God’s love. What brings us together here is a collection of parables, mini-stories, frightening tales of kisses and bites, leaps into the void, bridges, fiery little tongues and cleansing ceremonies. These tales accompany us in the task of considering an ethics of disorientation, mourning and woundedness. Sour to the taste, unpleasant, poisonous. A mental or emotional state that corrodes or gnaws away. Bitterness. Resentment. An ethics of disorientation will always be unhinged. It applies to the present time. Perverse. Deadly and pink. A time that is disjointed, disrupted, dislocated, unhinged, harassed and disturbed, unbalanced and at the same time unkempt and crazy. A time that is perceived to be populated by immaterial presences, which often haunt us, watch over us or even possess us, to the point of psychosis. Where. Bringing to the foreground the ghosts of the material. Existential detour. The blood of sheep. A state similar to how we behave in loss and grief, or how we act under the blinding effects of a gaseous light. Ángel peligrosamente búho teja. You could be here. No, here. Where. For an ethics of disorientation, one needs to lose the body, and with the body perspective, and with perspective the perception of feeling at home. Migrant orientation. Gospel. Looking in two directions. A lost home. Hetero. A place that is not yet home. Cupid. Spores. Yoghurt. The straight lines of desire shatter and fall, prolonging the body, creating new outlines by a disorienting effect that makes us feel familiar places as points of pressure, of suffocation or asphyxiation, of obligation to renounce oneself. Compressed light. Trail of blood. Quickly. Other lines of desire appear in the failure of the experience beyond the straight lines that configured its initial orientation. Where. The world invents its compulsory narratives. Where. Where is here. Here is a spectre. The spectre is queer, like Veronica. We cannot establish it in our understanding, for it is a movement that sways in the shadows of the in-between. Hegemonic spectres, those living in the lights. Revolutionary ghosts, hidden in the shadows of memory. They come from the past and murmur from the futures we have imagined. They simultaneously speak to us of the fear in that which is beyond our comprehension and out of view. Symptomatic of the prospective limitations of the time in which it has been invoked, making visible its deep state of mind and stealthily participating in its cultural trends. or how. — THE WAY OF GRIEF (Núria Gómez Gabriel, 2023):  Veronica wipes the face of Jesus. In fact, veronica is the veil with which, according to the Bible, a character the evangelists tell us nothing about and is in all probability an invention of Christian piety and tenderness would have been moved to wipe the dirty, painful and bloody face of Jesus on the Way of Grief. Veronica is the canvas, the impression in blood and shit, the vera icono, the image, the trace, the material spectre evoking all those faces disfigured by anger, rage, shouting and slander. How wound and mistreatment, having passed the traces of filth and death onto the image, deserve the attention of all those who want to know their stomach, wipe away their sweat and drink their life-giving blood.   or how. We do not give a damn about God’s love. What brings us together here is a collection of parables, mini-stories, frightening tales of kisses and bites, leaps into the void, bridges, fiery little tongues and cleansing ceremonies. These tales accompany us in the task of considering an ethics of disorientation, mourning and woundedness. Sour to the taste, unpleasant, poisonous. A mental or emotional state that corrodes or gnaws away. Bitterness. Resentment. An ethics of disorientation will always be unhinged. It applies to the present time. Perverse. Deadly and pink. A time that is disjointed, disrupted, dislocated, unhinged, harassed and disturbed, unbalanced and at the same time unkempt and crazy. A time that is perceived to be populated by immaterial presences, which often haunt us, watch over us or even possess us, to the point of psychosis. Where. Bringing to the foreground the ghosts of the material. Existential detour. The blood of sheep. A state similar to how we behave in loss and grief, or how we act under the blinding effects of a gaseous light. Ángel peligrosamente búho teja. You could be here. No, here. Where. For an ethics of disorientation, one needs to lose the body, and with the body perspective, and with perspective the perception of feeling at home. Migrant orientation. Gospel. Looking in two directions. A lost home. Hetero. A place that is not yet home. Cupid. Spores. Yoghurt. The straight lines of desire shatter and fall, prolonging the body, creating new outlines by a disorienting effect that makes us feel familiar places as points of pressure, of suffocation or asphyxiation, of obligation to renounce oneself. Compressed light. Trail of blood. Quickly. Other lines of desire appear in the failure of the experience beyond the straight lines that configured its initial orientation. Where. The world invents its compulsory narratives. Where. Where is here. Here is a spectre. The spectre is queer, like Veronica. We cannot establish it in our understanding, for it is a movement that sways in the shadows of the in-between. Hegemonic spectres, those living in the lights. Revolutionary ghosts, hidden in the shadows of memory. They come from the past and murmur from the futures we have imagined. They simultaneously speak to us of the fear in that which is beyond our comprehension and out of view. Symptomatic of the prospective limitations of the time in which it has been invoked, making visible its deep state of mind and stealthily participating in its cultural trends. or how. — THE WAY OF GRIEF (Núria Gómez Gabriel, 2023):  Veronica wipes the face of Jesus. In fact, veronica is the veil with which, according to the Bible, a character the evangelists tell us nothing about and is in all probability an invention of Christian piety and tenderness would have been moved to wipe the dirty, painful and bloody face of Jesus on the Way of Grief. Veronica is the canvas, the impression in blood and shit, the vera icono, the image, the trace, the material spectre evoking all those faces disfigured by anger, rage, shouting and slander. How wound and mistreatment, having passed the traces of filth and death onto the image, deserve the attention of all those who want to know their stomach, wipe away their sweat and drink their life-giving blood.   or how. We do not give a damn about God’s love. What brings us together here is a collection of parables, mini-stories, frightening tales of kisses and bites, leaps into the void, bridges, fiery little tongues and cleansing ceremonies. These tales accompany us in the task of considering an ethics of disorientation, mourning and woundedness. Sour to the taste, unpleasant, poisonous. A mental or emotional state that corrodes or gnaws away. Bitterness. Resentment. An ethics of disorientation will always be unhinged. It applies to the present time. Perverse. Deadly and pink. A time that is disjointed, disrupted, dislocated, unhinged, harassed and disturbed, unbalanced and at the same time unkempt and crazy. A time that is perceived to be populated by immaterial presences, which often haunt us, watch over us or even possess us, to the point of psychosis. Where. Bringing to the foreground the ghosts of the material. Existential detour. The blood of sheep. A state similar to how we behave in loss and grief, or how we act under the blinding effects of a gaseous light. Ángel peligrosamente búho teja. You could be here. No, here. Where. For an ethics of disorientation, one needs to lose the body, and with the body perspective, and with perspective the perception of feeling at home. Migrant orientation. Gospel. Looking in two directions. A lost home. Hetero. A place that is not yet home. Cupid. Spores. Yoghurt. The straight lines of desire shatter and fall, prolonging the body, creating new outlines by a disorienting effect that makes us feel familiar places as points of pressure, of suffocation or asphyxiation, of obligation to renounce oneself. Compressed light. Trail of blood. Quickly. Other lines of desire appear in the failure of the experience beyond the straight lines that configured its initial orientation. Where. The world invents its compulsory narratives. Where. Where is here. Here is a spectre. The spectre is queer, like Veronica. We cannot establish it in our understanding, for it is a movement that sways in the shadows of the in-between. Hegemonic spectres, those living in the lights. Revolutionary ghosts, hidden in the shadows of memory. They come from the past and murmur from the futures we have imagined. They simultaneously speak to us of the fear in that which is beyond our comprehension and out of view. Symptomatic of the prospective limitations of the time in which it has been invoked, making visible its deep state of mind and stealthily participating in its cultural trends. or how. — THE WAY OF GRIEF (Núria Gómez Gabriel, 2023):  Veronica wipes the face of Jesus. In fact, veronica is the veil with which, according to the Bible, a character the evangelists tell us nothing about and is in all probability an invention of Christian piety and tenderness would have been moved to wipe the dirty, painful and bloody face of Jesus on the Way of Grief. Veronica is the canvas, the impression in blood and shit, the vera icono, the image, the trace, the material spectre evoking all those faces disfigured by anger, rage, shouting and slander. How wound and mistreatment, having passed the traces of filth and death onto the image, deserve the attention of all those who want to know their stomach, wipe away their sweat and drink their life-giving blood.   or how. We do not give a damn about God’s love. What brings us together here is a collection of parables, mini-stories, frightening tales of kisses and bites, leaps into the void, bridges, fiery little tongues and cleansing ceremonies. These tales accompany us in the task of considering an ethics of disorientation, mourning and woundedness. Sour to the taste, unpleasant, poisonous. A mental or emotional state that corrodes or gnaws away. Bitterness. Resentment. An ethics of disorientation will always be unhinged. It applies to the present time. Perverse. Deadly and pink. A time that is disjointed, disrupted, dislocated, unhinged, harassed and disturbed, unbalanced and at the same time unkempt and crazy. A time that is perceived to be populated by immaterial presences, which often haunt us, watch over us or even possess us, to the point of psychosis. Where. Bringing to the foreground the ghosts of the material. Existential detour. The blood of sheep. A state similar to how we behave in loss and grief, or how we act under the blinding effects of a gaseous light. Ángel peligrosamente búho teja. You could be here. No, here. Where. For an ethics of disorientation, one needs to lose the body, and with the body perspective, and with perspective the perception of feeling at home. Migrant orientation. Gospel. Looking in two directions. A lost home. Hetero. A place that is not yet home. Cupid. Spores. Yoghurt. The straight lines of desire shatter and fall, prolonging the body, creating new outlines by a disorienting effect that makes us feel familiar places as points of pressure, of suffocation or asphyxiation, of obligation to renounce oneself. Compressed light. Trail of blood. Quickly. Other lines of desire appear in the failure of the experience beyond the straight lines that configured its initial orientation. Where. The world invents its compulsory narratives. Where. Where is here. Here is a spectre. The spectre is queer, like Veronica. We cannot establish it in our understanding, for it is a movement that sways in the shadows of the in-between. Hegemonic spectres, those living in the lights. Revolutionary ghosts, hidden in the shadows of memory. They come from the past and murmur from the futures we have imagined. They simultaneously speak to us of the fear in that which is beyond our comprehension and out of view. Symptomatic of the prospective limitations of the time in which it has been invoked, making visible its deep state of mind and stealthily participating in its cultural trends. or how. — THE WAY OF GRIEF (Núria Gómez Gabriel, 2023):  Veronica wipes the face of Jesus. In fact, veronica is the veil with which, according to the Bible, a character the evangelists tell us nothing about and is in all probability an invention of Christian piety and tenderness would have been moved to wipe the dirty, painful and bloody face of Jesus on the Way of Grief. Veronica is the canvas, the impression in blood and shit, the vera icono, the image, the trace, the material spectre evoking all those faces disfigured by anger, rage, shouting and slander. How wound and mistreatment, having passed the traces of filth and death onto the image, deserve the attention of all those who want to know their stomach, wipe away their sweat and drink their life-giving blood.   or how. We do not give a damn about God’s love. What brings us together here is a collection of parables, mini-stories, frightening tales of kisses and bites, leaps into the void, bridges, fiery little tongues and cleansing ceremonies. These tales accompany us in the task of considering an ethics of disorientation, mourning and woundedness. Sour to the taste, unpleasant, poisonous. A mental or emotional state that corrodes or gnaws away. Bitterness. Resentment. An ethics of disorientation will always be unhinged. It applies to the present time. Perverse. Deadly and pink. A time that is disjointed, disrupted, dislocated, unhinged, harassed and disturbed, unbalanced and at the same time unkempt and crazy. A time that is perceived to be populated by immaterial presences, which often haunt us, watch over us or even possess us, to the point of psychosis. Where. Bringing to the foreground the ghosts of the material. Existential detour. The blood of sheep. A state similar to how we behave in loss and grief, or how we act under the blinding effects of a gaseous light. Ángel peligrosamente búho teja. You could be here. No, here. Where. For an ethics of disorientation, one needs to lose the body, and with the body perspective, and with perspective the perception of feeling at home. Migrant orientation. Gospel. Looking in two directions. A lost home. Hetero. A place that is not yet home. Cupid. Spores. Yoghurt. The straight lines of desire shatter and fall, prolonging the body, creating new outlines by a disorienting effect that makes us feel familiar places as points of pressure, of suffocation or asphyxiation, of obligation to renounce oneself. Compressed light. Trail of blood. Quickly. Other lines of desire appear in the failure of the experience beyond the straight lines that configured its initial orientation. Where. The world invents its compulsory narratives. Where. Where is here. Here is a spectre. The spectre is queer, like Veronica. We cannot establish it in our understanding, for it is a movement that sways in the shadows of the in-between. Hegemonic spectres, those living in the lights. Revolutionary ghosts, hidden in the shadows of memory. They come from the past and murmur from the futures we have imagined. They simultaneously speak to us of the fear in that which is beyond our comprehension and out of view. Symptomatic of the prospective limitations of the time in which it has been invoked, making visible its deep state of mind and stealthily participating in its cultural trends. or how. — THE WAY OF GRIEF (Núria Gómez Gabriel, 2023):  Veronica wipes the face of Jesus. In fact, veronica is the veil with which, according to the Bible, a character the evangelists tell us nothing about and is in all probability an invention of Christian piety and tenderness would have been moved to wipe the dirty, painful and bloody face of Jesus on the Way of Grief. Veronica is the canvas, the impression in blood and shit, the vera icono, the image, the trace, the material spectre evoking all those faces disfigured by anger, rage, shouting and slander. How wound and mistreatment, having passed the traces of filth and death onto the image, deserve the attention of all those who want to know their stomach, wipe away their sweat and drink their life-giving blood.   or how. We do not give a damn about God’s love. What brings us together here is a collection of parables, mini-stories, frightening tales of kisses and bites, leaps into the void, bridges, fiery little tongues and cleansing ceremonies. These tales accompany us in the task of considering an ethics of disorientation, mourning and woundedness. Sour to the taste, unpleasant, poisonous. A mental or emotional state that corrodes or gnaws away. Bitterness. Resentment. An ethics of disorientation will always be unhinged. It applies to the present time. Perverse. Deadly and pink. A time that is disjointed, disrupted, dislocated, unhinged, harassed and disturbed, unbalanced and at the same time unkempt and crazy. A time that is perceived to be populated by immaterial presences, which often haunt us, watch over us or even possess us, to the point of psychosis. Where. Bringing to the foreground the ghosts of the material. Existential detour. The blood of sheep. A state similar to how we behave in loss and grief, or how we act under the blinding effects of a gaseous light. Ángel peligrosamente búho teja. You could be here. No, here. Where. For an ethics of disorientation, one needs to lose the body, and with the body perspective, and with perspective the perception of feeling at home. Migrant orientation. Gospel. Looking in two directions. A lost home. Hetero. A place that is not yet home. Cupid. Spores. Yoghurt. The straight lines of desire shatter and fall, prolonging the body, creating new outlines by a disorienting effect that makes us feel familiar places as points of pressure, of suffocation or asphyxiation, of obligation to renounce oneself. Compressed light. Trail of blood. Quickly. Other lines of desire appear in the failure of the experience beyond the straight lines that configured its initial orientation. Where. The world invents its compulsory narratives. Where. Where is here. Here is a spectre. The spectre is queer, like Veronica. We cannot establish it in our understanding, for it is a movement that sways in the shadows of the in-between. Hegemonic spectres, those living in the lights. Revolutionary ghosts, hidden in the shadows of memory. They come from the past and murmur from the futures we have imagined. They simultaneously speak to us of the fear in that which is beyond our comprehension and out of view. Symptomatic of the prospective limitations of the time in which it has been invoked, making visible its deep state of mind and stealthily participating in its cultural trends. or how. — THE WAY OF GRIEF (Núria Gómez Gabriel, 2023):  Veronica wipes the face of Jesus. In fact, veronica is the veil with which, according to the Bible, a character the evangelists tell us nothing about and is in all probability an invention of Christian piety and tenderness would have been moved to wipe the dirty, painful and bloody face of Jesus on the Way of Grief. Veronica is the canvas, the impression in blood and shit, the vera icono, the image, the trace, the material spectre evoking all those faces disfigured by anger, rage, shouting and slander. How wound and mistreatment, having passed the traces of filth and death onto the image, deserve the attention of all those who want to know their stomach, wipe away their sweat and drink their life-giving blood.   or how. We do not give a damn about God’s love. What brings us together here is a collection of parables, mini-stories, frightening tales of kisses and bites, leaps into the void, bridges, fiery little tongues and cleansing ceremonies. These tales accompany us in the task of considering an ethics of disorientation, mourning and woundedness. Sour to the taste, unpleasant, poisonous. A mental or emotional state that corrodes or gnaws away. Bitterness. Resentment. An ethics of disorientation will always be unhinged. It applies to the present time. Perverse. Deadly and pink. A time that is disjointed, disrupted, dislocated, unhinged, harassed and disturbed, unbalanced and at the same time unkempt and crazy. A time that is perceived to be populated by immaterial presences, which often haunt us, watch over us or even possess us, to the point of psychosis. Where. Bringing to the foreground the ghosts of the material. Existential detour. The blood of sheep. A state similar to how we behave in loss and grief, or how we act under the blinding effects of a gaseous light. Ángel peligrosamente búho teja. You could be here. No, here. Where. For an ethics of disorientation, one needs to lose the body, and with the body perspective, and with perspective the perception of feeling at home. Migrant orientation. Gospel. Looking in two directions. A lost home. Hetero. A place that is not yet home. Cupid. Spores. Yoghurt. The straight lines of desire shatter and fall, prolonging the body, creating new outlines by a disorienting effect that makes us feel familiar places as points of pressure, of suffocation or asphyxiation, of obligation to renounce oneself. Compressed light. Trail of blood. Quickly. Other lines of desire appear in the failure of the experience beyond the straight lines that configured its initial orientation. Where. The world invents its compulsory narratives. Where. Where is here. Here is a spectre. The spectre is queer, like Veronica. We cannot establish it in our understanding, for it is a movement that sways in the shadows of the in-between. Hegemonic spectres, those living in the lights. Revolutionary ghosts, hidden in the shadows of memory. They come from the past and murmur from the futures we have imagined. They simultaneously speak to us of the fear in that which is beyond our comprehension and out of view. Symptomatic of the prospective limitations of the time in which it has been invoked, making visible its deep state of mind and stealthily participating in its cultural trends. or how. — THE WAY OF GRIEF (Núria Gómez Gabriel, 2023):  Veronica wipes the face of Jesus. In fact, veronica is the veil with which, according to the Bible, a character the evangelists tell us nothing about and is in all probability an invention of Christian piety and tenderness would have been moved to wipe the dirty, painful and bloody face of Jesus on the Way of Grief. Veronica is the canvas, the impression in blood and shit, the vera icono, the image, the trace, the material spectre evoking all those faces disfigured by anger, rage, shouting and slander. How wound and mistreatment, having passed the traces of filth and death onto the image, deserve the attention of all those who want to know their stomach, wipe away their sweat and drink their life-giving blood.   or how. We do not give a damn about God’s love. What brings us together here is a collection of parables, mini-stories, frightening tales of kisses and bites, leaps into the void, bridges, fiery little tongues and cleansing ceremonies. These tales accompany us in the task of considering an ethics of disorientation, mourning and woundedness. Sour to the taste, unpleasant, poisonous. A mental or emotional state that corrodes or gnaws away. Bitterness. Resentment. An ethics of disorientation will always be unhinged. It applies to the present time. Perverse. Deadly and pink. A time that is disjointed, disrupted, dislocated, unhinged, harassed and disturbed, unbalanced and at the same time unkempt and crazy. A time that is perceived to be populated by immaterial presences, which often haunt us, watch over us or even possess us, to the point of psychosis. Where. Bringing to the foreground the ghosts of the material. Existential detour. The blood of sheep. A state similar to how we behave in loss and grief, or how we act under the blinding effects of a gaseous light. Ángel peligrosamente búho teja. You could be here. No, here. Where. For an ethics of disorientation, one needs to lose the body, and with the body perspective, and with perspective the perception of feeling at home. Migrant orientation. Gospel. Looking in two directions. A lost home. Hetero. A place that is not yet home. Cupid. Spores. Yoghurt. The straight lines of desire shatter and fall, prolonging the body, creating new outlines by a disorienting effect that makes us feel familiar places as points of pressure, of suffocation or asphyxiation, of obligation to renounce oneself. Compressed light. Trail of blood. Quickly. Other lines of desire appear in the failure of the experience beyond the straight lines that configured its initial orientation. Where. The world invents its compulsory narratives. Where. Where is here. Here is a spectre. The spectre is queer, like Veronica. We cannot establish it in our understanding, for it is a movement that sways in the shadows of the in-between. Hegemonic spectres, those living in the lights. Revolutionary ghosts, hidden in the shadows of memory. They come from the past and murmur from the futures we have imagined. They simultaneously speak to us of the fear in that which is beyond our comprehension and out of view. Symptomatic of the prospective limitations of the time in which it has been invoked, making visible its deep state of mind and stealthily participating in its cultural trends. or how. — THE WAY OF GRIEF (Núria Gómez Gabriel, 2023):  Veronica wipes the face of Jesus. In fact, veronica is the veil with which, according to the Bible, a character the evangelists tell us nothing about and is in all probability an invention of Christian piety and tenderness would have been moved to wipe the dirty, painful and bloody face of Jesus on the Way of Grief. Veronica is the canvas, the impression in blood and shit, the vera icono, the image, the trace, the material spectre evoking all those faces disfigured by anger, rage, shouting and slander. How wound and mistreatment, having passed the traces of filth and death onto the image, deserve the attention of all those who want to know their stomach, wipe away their sweat and drink their life-giving blood.   or how. We do not give a damn about God’s love. What brings us together here is a collection of parables, mini-stories, frightening tales of kisses and bites, leaps into the void, bridges, fiery little tongues and cleansing ceremonies. These tales accompany us in the task of considering an ethics of disorientation, mourning and woundedness. Sour to the taste, unpleasant, poisonous. A mental or emotional state that corrodes or gnaws away. Bitterness. Resentment. An ethics of disorientation will always be unhinged. It applies to the present time. Perverse. Deadly and pink. A time that is disjointed, disrupted, dislocated, unhinged, harassed and disturbed, unbalanced and at the same time unkempt and crazy. A time that is perceived to be populated by immaterial presences, which often haunt us, watch over us or even possess us, to the point of psychosis. Where. Bringing to the foreground the ghosts of the material. Existential detour. The blood of sheep. A state similar to how we behave in loss and grief, or how we act under the blinding effects of a gaseous light. Ángel peligrosamente búho teja. You could be here. No, here. Where. For an ethics of disorientation, one needs to lose the body, and with the body perspective, and with perspective the perception of feeling at home. Migrant orientation. Gospel. Looking in two directions. A lost home. Hetero. A place that is not yet home. Cupid. Spores. Yoghurt. The straight lines of desire shatter and fall, prolonging the body, creating new outlines by a disorienting effect that makes us feel familiar places as points of pressure, of suffocation or asphyxiation, of obligation to renounce oneself. Compressed light. Trail of blood. Quickly. Other lines of desire appear in the failure of the experience beyond the straight lines that configured its initial orientation. Where. The world invents its compulsory narratives. Where. Where is here. Here is a spectre. The spectre is queer, like Veronica. We cannot establish it in our understanding, for it is a movement that sways in the shadows of the in-between. Hegemonic spectres, those living in the lights. Revolutionary ghosts, hidden in the shadows of memory. They come from the past and murmur from the futures we have imagined. They simultaneously speak to us of the fear in that which is beyond our comprehension and out of view. Symptomatic of the prospective limitations of the time in which it has been invoked, making visible its deep state of mind and stealthily participating in its cultural trends. or how. — THE WAY OF GRIEF (Núria Gómez Gabriel, 2023):  Veronica wipes the face of Jesus. In fact, veronica is the veil with which, according to the Bible, a character the evangelists tell us nothing about and is in all probability an invention of Christian piety and tenderness would have been moved to wipe the dirty, painful and bloody face of Jesus on the Way of Grief. Veronica is the canvas, the impression in blood and shit, the vera icono, the image, the trace, the material spectre evoking all those faces disfigured by anger, rage, shouting and slander. How wound and mistreatment, having passed the traces of filth and death onto the image, deserve the attention of all those who want to know their stomach, wipe away their sweat and drink their life-giving blood.   or how. We do not give a damn about God’s love. What brings us together here is a collection of parables, mini-stories, frightening tales of kisses and bites, leaps into the void, bridges, fiery little tongues and cleansing ceremonies. These tales accompany us in the task of considering an ethics of disorientation, mourning and woundedness. Sour to the taste, unpleasant, poisonous. A mental or emotional state that corrodes or gnaws away. Bitterness. Resentment. An ethics of disorientation will always be unhinged. It applies to the present time. Perverse. Deadly and pink. A time that is disjointed, disrupted, dislocated, unhinged, harassed and disturbed, unbalanced and at the same time unkempt and crazy. A time that is perceived to be populated by immaterial presences, which often haunt us, watch over us or even possess us, to the point of psychosis. Where. Bringing to the foreground the ghosts of the material. Existential detour. The blood of sheep. A state similar to how we behave in loss and grief, or how we act under the blinding effects of a gaseous light. Ángel peligrosamente búho teja. You could be here. No, here. Where. For an ethics of disorientation, one needs to lose the body, and with the body perspective, and with perspective the perception of feeling at home. Migrant orientation. Gospel. Looking in two directions. A lost home. Hetero. A place that is not yet home. Cupid. Spores. Yoghurt. The straight lines of desire shatter and fall, prolonging the body, creating new outlines by a disorienting effect that makes us feel familiar places as points of pressure, of suffocation or asphyxiation, of obligation to renounce oneself. Compressed light. Trail of blood. Quickly. Other lines of desire appear in the failure of the experience beyond the straight lines that configured its initial orientation. Where. The world invents its compulsory narratives. Where. Where is here. Here is a spectre. The spectre is queer, like Veronica. We cannot establish it in our understanding, for it is a movement that sways in the shadows of the in-between. Hegemonic spectres, those living in the lights. Revolutionary ghosts, hidden in the shadows of memory. They come from the past and murmur from the futures we have imagined. They simultaneously speak to us of the fear in that which is beyond our comprehension and out of view. Symptomatic of the prospective limitations of the time in which it has been invoked, making visible its deep state of mind and stealthily participating in its cultural trends. or how. — THE WAY OF GRIEF (Núria Gómez Gabriel, 2023):  Veronica wipes the face of Jesus. In fact, veronica is the veil with which, according to the Bible, a character the evangelists tell us nothing about and is in all probability an invention of Christian piety and tenderness would have been moved to wipe the dirty, painful and bloody face of Jesus on the Way of Grief. Veronica is the canvas, the impression in blood and shit, the vera icono, the image, the trace, the material spectre evoking all those faces disfigured by anger, rage, shouting and slander. How wound and mistreatment, having passed the traces of filth and death onto the image, deserve the attention of all those who want to know their stomach, wipe away their sweat and drink their life-giving blood.   or how. We do not give a damn about God’s love. What brings us together here is a collection of parables, mini-stories, frightening tales of kisses and bites, leaps into the void, bridges, fiery little tongues and cleansing ceremonies. These tales accompany us in the task of considering an ethics of disorientation, mourning and woundedness. Sour to the taste, unpleasant, poisonous. A mental or emotional state that corrodes or gnaws away. Bitterness. Resentment. An ethics of disorientation will always be unhinged. It applies to the present time. Perverse. Deadly and pink. A time that is disjointed, disrupted, dislocated, unhinged, harassed and disturbed, unbalanced and at the same time unkempt and crazy. A time that is perceived to be populated by immaterial presences, which often haunt us, watch over us or even possess us, to the point of psychosis. Where. Bringing to the foreground the ghosts of the material. Existential detour. The blood of sheep. A state similar to how we behave in loss and grief, or how we act under the blinding effects of a gaseous light. Ángel peligrosamente búho teja. You could be here. No, here. Where. For an ethics of disorientation, one needs to lose the body, and with the body perspective, and with perspective the perception of feeling at home. Migrant orientation. Gospel. Looking in two directions. A lost home. Hetero. A place that is not yet home. Cupid. Spores. Yoghurt. The straight lines of desire shatter and fall, prolonging the body, creating new outlines by a disorienting effect that makes us feel familiar places as points of pressure, of suffocation or asphyxiation, of obligation to renounce oneself. Compressed light. Trail of blood. Quickly. Other lines of desire appear in the failure of the experience beyond the straight lines that configured its initial orientation. Where. The world invents its compulsory narratives. Where. Where is here. Here is a spectre. The spectre is queer, like Veronica. We cannot establish it in our understanding, for it is a movement that sways in the shadows of the in-between. Hegemonic spectres, those living in the lights. Revolutionary ghosts, hidden in the shadows of memory. They come from the past and murmur from the futures we have imagined. They simultaneously speak to us of the fear in that which is beyond our comprehension and out of view. Symptomatic of the prospective limitations of the time in which it has been invoked, making visible its deep state of mind and stealthily participating in its cultural trends. or how. — THE WAY OF GRIEF (Núria Gómez Gabriel, 2023):  Veronica wipes the face of Jesus. In fact, veronica is the veil with which, according to the Bible, a character the evangelists tell us nothing about and is in all probability an invention of Christian piety and tenderness would have been moved to wipe the dirty, painful and bloody face of Jesus on the Way of Grief. Veronica is the canvas, the impression in blood and shit, the vera icono, the image, the trace, the material spectre evoking all those faces disfigured by anger, rage, shouting and slander. How wound and mistreatment, having passed the traces of filth and death onto the image, deserve the attention of all those who want to know their stomach, wipe away their sweat and drink their life-giving blood.   or how. We do not give a damn about God’s love. What brings us together here is a collection of parables, mini-stories, frightening tales of kisses and bites, leaps into the void, bridges, fiery little tongues and cleansing ceremonies. These tales accompany us in the task of considering an ethics of disorientation, mourning and woundedness. Sour to the taste, unpleasant, poisonous. A mental or emotional state that corrodes or gnaws away. Bitterness. Resentment. An ethics of disorientation will always be unhinged. It applies to the present time. Perverse. Deadly and pink. A time that is disjointed, disrupted, dislocated, unhinged, harassed and disturbed, unbalanced and at the same time unkempt and crazy. A time that is perceived to be populated by immaterial presences, which often haunt us, watch over us or even possess us, to the point of psychosis. Where. Bringing to the foreground the ghosts of the material. Existential detour. The blood of sheep. A state similar to how we behave in loss and grief, or how we act under the blinding effects of a gaseous light. Ángel peligrosamente búho teja. You could be here. No, here. Where. For an ethics of disorientation, one needs to lose the body, and with the body perspective, and with perspective the perception of feeling at home. Migrant orientation. Gospel. Looking in two directions. A lost home. Hetero. A place that is not yet home. Cupid. Spores. Yoghurt. The straight lines of desire shatter and fall, prolonging the body, creating new outlines by a disorienting effect that makes us feel familiar places as points of pressure, of suffocation or asphyxiation, of obligation to renounce oneself. Compressed light. Trail of blood. Quickly. Other lines of desire appear in the failure of the experience beyond the straight lines that configured its initial orientation. Where. The world invents its compulsory narratives. Where. Where is here. Here is a spectre. The spectre is queer, like Veronica. We cannot establish it in our understanding, for it is a movement that sways in the shadows of the in-between. Hegemonic spectres, those living in the lights. Revolutionary ghosts, hidden in the shadows of memory. They come from the past and murmur from the futures we have imagined. They simultaneously speak to us of the fear in that which is beyond our comprehension and out of view. Symptomatic of the prospective limitations of the time in which it has been invoked, making visible its deep state of mind and stealthily participating in its cultural trends. or how. — THE WAY OF GRIEF (Núria Gómez Gabriel, 2023):  Veronica wipes the face of Jesus. In fact, veronica is the veil with which, according to the Bible, a character the evangelists tell us nothing about and is in all probability an invention of Christian piety and tenderness would have been moved to wipe the dirty, painful and bloody face of Jesus on the Way of Grief. Veronica is the canvas, the impression in blood and shit, the vera icono, the image, the trace, the material spectre evoking all those faces disfigured by anger, rage, shouting and slander. How wound and mistreatment, having passed the traces of filth and death onto the image, deserve the attention of all those who want to know their stomach, wipe away their sweat and drink their life-giving blood.   or how. We do not give a damn about God’s love. What brings us together here is a collection of parables, mini-stories, frightening tales of kisses and bites, leaps into the void, bridges, fiery little tongues and cleansing ceremonies. These tales accompany us in the task of considering an ethics of disorientation, mourning and woundedness. Sour to the taste, unpleasant, poisonous. A mental or emotional state that corrodes or gnaws away. Bitterness. Resentment. An ethics of disorientation will always be unhinged. It applies to the present time. Perverse. Deadly and pink. A time that is disjointed, disrupted, dislocated, unhinged, harassed and disturbed, unbalanced and at the same time unkempt and crazy. A time that is perceived to be populated by immaterial presences, which often haunt us, watch over us or even possess us, to the point of psychosis. Where. Bringing to the foreground the ghosts of the material. Existential detour. The blood of sheep. A state similar to how we behave in loss and grief, or how we act under the blinding effects of a gaseous light. Ángel peligrosamente búho teja. You could be here. No, here. Where. For an ethics of disorientation, one needs to lose the body, and with the body perspective, and with perspective the perception of feeling at home. Migrant orientation. Gospel. Looking in two directions. A lost home. Hetero. A place that is not yet home. Cupid. Spores. Yoghurt. The straight lines of desire shatter and fall, prolonging the body, creating new outlines by a disorienting effect that makes us feel familiar places as points of pressure, of suffocation or asphyxiation, of obligation to renounce oneself. Compressed light. Trail of blood. Quickly. Other lines of desire appear in the failure of the experience beyond the straight lines that configured its initial orientation. Where. The world invents its compulsory narratives. Where. Where is here. Here is a spectre. The spectre is queer, like Veronica. We cannot establish it in our understanding, for it is a movement that sways in the shadows of the in-between. Hegemonic spectres, those living in the lights. Revolutionary ghosts, hidden in the shadows of memory. They come from the past and murmur from the futures we have imagined. They simultaneously speak to us of the fear in that which is beyond our comprehension and out of view. Symptomatic of the prospective limitations of the time in which it has been invoked, making visible its deep state of mind and stealthily participating in its cultural trends. or how. — THE WAY OF GRIEF (Núria Gómez Gabriel, 2023):  Veronica wipes the face of Jesus. In fact, veronica is the veil with which, according to the Bible, a character the evangelists tell us nothing about and is in all probability an invention of Christian piety and tenderness would have been moved to wipe the dirty, painful and bloody face of Jesus on the Way of Grief. Veronica is the canvas, the impression in blood and shit, the vera icono, the image, the trace, the material spectre evoking all those faces disfigured by anger, rage, shouting and slander. How wound and mistreatment, having passed the traces of filth and death onto the image, deserve the attention of all those who want to know their stomach, wipe away their sweat and drink their life-giving blood.   or how. We do not give a damn about God’s love. What brings us together here is a collection of parables, mini-stories, frightening tales of kisses and bites, leaps into the void, bridges, fiery little tongues and cleansing ceremonies. These tales accompany us in the task of considering an ethics of disorientation, mourning and woundedness. Sour to the taste, unpleasant, poisonous. A mental or emotional state that corrodes or gnaws away. Bitterness. Resentment. An ethics of disorientation will always be unhinged. It applies to the present time. Perverse. Deadly and pink. A time that is disjointed, disrupted, dislocated, unhinged, harassed and disturbed, unbalanced and at the same time unkempt and crazy. A time that is perceived to be populated by immaterial presences, which often haunt us, watch over us or even possess us, to the point of psychosis. Where. Bringing to the foreground the ghosts of the material. Existential detour. The blood of sheep. A state similar to how we behave in loss and grief, or how we act under the blinding effects of a gaseous light. Ángel peligrosamente búho teja. You could be here. No, here. Where. For an ethics of disorientation, one needs to lose the body, and with the body perspective, and with perspective the perception of feeling at home. Migrant orientation. Gospel. Looking in two directions. A lost home. Hetero. A place that is not yet home. Cupid. Spores. Yoghurt. The straight lines of desire shatter and fall, prolonging the body, creating new outlines by a disorienting effect that makes us feel familiar places as points of pressure, of suffocation or asphyxiation, of obligation to renounce oneself. Compressed light. Trail of blood. Quickly. Other lines of desire appear in the failure of the experience beyond the straight lines that configured its initial orientation. Where. The world invents its compulsory narratives. Where. Where is here. Here is a spectre. The spectre is queer, like Veronica. We cannot establish it in our understanding, for it is a movement that sways in the shadows of the in-between. Hegemonic spectres, those living in the lights. Revolutionary ghosts, hidden in the shadows of memory. They come from the past and murmur from the futures we have imagined. They simultaneously speak to us of the fear in that which is beyond our comprehension and out of view. Symptomatic of the prospective limitations of the time in which it has been invoked, making visible its deep state of mind and stealthily participating in its cultural trends. or how. — THE WAY OF GRIEF (Núria Gómez Gabriel, 2023):  Veronica wipes the face of Jesus. In fact, veronica is the veil with which, according to the Bible, a character the evangelists tell us nothing about and is in all probability an invention of Christian piety and tenderness would have been moved to wipe the dirty, painful and bloody face of Jesus on the Way of Grief. Veronica is the canvas, the impression in blood and shit, the vera icono, the image, the trace, the material spectre evoking all those faces disfigured by anger, rage, shouting and slander. How wound and mistreatment, having passed the traces of filth and death onto the image, deserve the attention of all those who want to know their stomach, wipe away their sweat and drink their life-giving blood.   or how. We do not give a damn about God’s love. What brings us together here is a collection of parables, mini-stories, frightening tales of kisses and bites, leaps into the void, bridges, fiery little tongues and cleansing ceremonies. These tales accompany us in the task of considering an ethics of disorientation, mourning and woundedness. Sour to the taste, unpleasant, poisonous. A mental or emotional state that corrodes or gnaws away. Bitterness. Resentment. An ethics of disorientation will always be unhinged. It applies to the present time. Perverse. Deadly and pink. A time that is disjointed, disrupted, dislocated, unhinged, harassed and disturbed, unbalanced and at the same time unkempt and crazy. A time that is perceived to be populated by immaterial presences, which often haunt us, watch over us or even possess us, to the point of psychosis. Where. Bringing to the foreground the ghosts of the material. Existential detour. The blood of sheep. A state similar to how we behave in loss and grief, or how we act under the blinding effects of a gaseous light. Ángel peligrosamente búho teja. You could be here. No, here. Where. For an ethics of disorientation, one needs to lose the body, and with the body perspective, and with perspective the perception of feeling at home. Migrant orientation. Gospel. Looking in two directions. A lost home. Hetero. A place that is not yet home. Cupid. Spores. Yoghurt. The straight lines of desire shatter and fall, prolonging the body, creating new outlines by a disorienting effect that makes us feel familiar places as points of pressure, of suffocation or asphyxiation, of obligation to renounce oneself. Compressed light. Trail of blood. Quickly. Other lines of desire appear in the failure of the experience beyond the straight lines that configured its initial orientation. Where. The world invents its compulsory narratives. Where. Where is here. Here is a spectre. The spectre is queer, like Veronica. We cannot establish it in our understanding, for it is a movement that sways in the shadows of the in-between. Hegemonic spectres, those living in the lights. Revolutionary ghosts, hidden in the shadows of memory. They come from the past and murmur from the futures we have imagined. They simultaneously speak to us of the fear in that which is beyond our comprehension and out of view. Symptomatic of the prospective limitations of the time in which it has been invoked, making visible its deep state of mind and stealthily participating in its cultural trends. or how. — THE WAY OF GRIEF (Núria Gómez Gabriel, 2023):  Veronica wipes the face of Jesus. In fact, veronica is the veil with which, according to the Bible, a character the evangelists tell us nothing about and is in all probability an invention of Christian piety and tenderness would have been moved to wipe the dirty, painful and bloody face of Jesus on the Way of Grief. Veronica is the canvas, the impression in blood and shit, the vera icono, the image, the trace, the material spectre evoking all those faces disfigured by anger, rage, shouting and slander. How wound and mistreatment, having passed the traces of filth and death onto the image, deserve the attention of all those who want to know their stomach, wipe away their sweat and drink their life-giving blood.   or how. We do not give a damn about God’s love. What brings us together here is a collection of parables, mini-stories, frightening tales of kisses and bites, leaps into the void, bridges, fiery little tongues and cleansing ceremonies. These tales accompany us in the task of considering an ethics of disorientation, mourning and woundedness. Sour to the taste, unpleasant, poisonous. A mental or emotional state that corrodes or gnaws away. Bitterness. Resentment. An ethics of disorientation will always be unhinged. It applies to the present time. Perverse. Deadly and pink. A time that is disjointed, disrupted, dislocated, unhinged, harassed and disturbed, unbalanced and at the same time unkempt and crazy. A time that is perceived to be populated by immaterial presences, which often haunt us, watch over us or even possess us, to the point of psychosis. Where. Bringing to the foreground the ghosts of the material. Existential detour. The blood of sheep. A state similar to how we behave in loss and grief, or how we act under the blinding effects of a gaseous light. Ángel peligrosamente búho teja. You could be here. No, here. Where. For an ethics of disorientation, one needs to lose the body, and with the body perspective, and with perspective the perception of feeling at home. Migrant orientation. Gospel. Looking in two directions. A lost home. Hetero. A place that is not yet home. Cupid. Spores. Yoghurt. The straight lines of desire shatter and fall, prolonging the body, creating new outlines by a disorienting effect that makes us feel familiar places as points of pressure, of suffocation or asphyxiation, of obligation to renounce oneself. Compressed light. Trail of blood. Quickly. Other lines of desire appear in the failure of the experience beyond the straight lines that configured its initial orientation. Where. The world invents its compulsory narratives. Where. Where is here. Here is a spectre. The spectre is queer, like Veronica. We cannot establish it in our understanding, for it is a movement that sways in the shadows of the in-between. Hegemonic spectres, those living in the lights. Revolutionary ghosts, hidden in the shadows of memory. They come from the past and murmur from the futures we have imagined. They simultaneously speak to us of the fear in that which is beyond our comprehension and out of view. Symptomatic of the prospective limitations of the time in which it has been invoked, making visible its deep state of mind and stealthily participating in its cultural trends. or how. — THE WAY OF GRIEF (Núria Gómez Gabriel, 2023):  Veronica wipes the face of Jesus. In fact, veronica is the veil with which, according to the Bible, a character the evangelists tell us nothing about and is in all probability an invention of Christian piety and tenderness would have been moved to wipe the dirty, painful and bloody face of Jesus on the Way of Grief. Veronica is the canvas, the impression in blood and shit, the vera icono, the image, the trace, the material spectre evoking all those faces disfigured by anger, rage, shouting and slander. How wound and mistreatment, having passed the traces of filth and death onto the image, deserve the attention of all those who want to know their stomach, wipe away their sweat and drink their life-giving blood.   or how. We do not give a damn about God’s love. What brings us together here is a collection of parables, mini-stories, frightening tales of kisses and bites, leaps into the void, bridges, fiery little tongues and cleansing ceremonies. These tales accompany us in the task of considering an ethics of disorientation, mourning and woundedness. Sour to the taste, unpleasant, poisonous. A mental or emotional state that corrodes or gnaws away. Bitterness. Resentment. An ethics of disorientation will always be unhinged. It applies to the present time. Perverse. Deadly and pink. A time that is disjointed, disrupted, dislocated, unhinged, harassed and disturbed, unbalanced and at the same time unkempt and crazy. A time that is perceived to be populated by immaterial presences, which often haunt us, watch over us or even possess us, to the point of psychosis. Where. Bringing to the foreground the ghosts of the material. Existential detour. The blood of sheep. A state similar to how we behave in loss and grief, or how we act under the blinding effects of a gaseous light. Ángel peligrosamente búho teja. You could be here. No, here. Where. For an ethics of disorientation, one needs to lose the body, and with the body perspective, and with perspective the perception of feeling at home. Migrant orientation. Gospel. Looking in two directions. A lost home. Hetero. A place that is not yet home. Cupid. Spores. Yoghurt. The straight lines of desire shatter and fall, prolonging the body, creating new outlines by a disorienting effect that makes us feel familiar places as points of pressure, of suffocation or asphyxiation, of obligation to renounce oneself. Compressed light. Trail of blood. Quickly. Other lines of desire appear in the failure of the experience beyond the straight lines that configured its initial orientation. Where. The world invents its compulsory narratives. Where. Where is here. Here is a spectre. The spectre is queer, like Veronica. We cannot establish it in our understanding, for it is a movement that sways in the shadows of the in-between. Hegemonic spectres, those living in the lights. Revolutionary ghosts, hidden in the shadows of memory. They come from the past and murmur from the futures we have imagined. They simultaneously speak to us of the fear in that which is beyond our comprehension and out of view. Symptomatic of the prospective limitations of the time in which it has been invoked, making visible its deep state of mind and stealthily participating in its cultural trends. or how. — THE WAY OF GRIEF (Núria Gómez Gabriel, 2023):  Veronica wipes the face of Jesus. In fact, veronica is the veil with which, according to the Bible, a character the evangelists tell us nothing about and is in all probability an invention of Christian piety and tenderness would have been moved to wipe the dirty, painful and bloody face of Jesus on the Way of Grief. Veronica is the canvas, the impression in blood and shit, the vera icono, the image, the trace, the material spectre evoking all those faces disfigured by anger, rage, shouting and slander. How wound and mistreatment, having passed the traces of filth and death onto the image, deserve the attention of all those who want to know their stomach, wipe away their sweat and drink their life-giving blood.   or how. We do not give a damn about God’s love. What brings us together here is a collection of parables, mini-stories, frightening tales of kisses and bites, leaps into the void, bridges, fiery little tongues and cleansing ceremonies. These tales accompany us in the task of considering an ethics of disorientation, mourning and woundedness. Sour to the taste, unpleasant, poisonous. A mental or emotional state that corrodes or gnaws away. Bitterness. Resentment. An ethics of disorientation will always be unhinged. It applies to the present time. Perverse. Deadly and pink. A time that is disjointed, disrupted, dislocated, unhinged, harassed and disturbed, unbalanced and at the same time unkempt and crazy. A time that is perceived to be populated by immaterial presences, which often haunt us, watch over us or even possess us, to the point of psychosis. Where. Bringing to the foreground the ghosts of the material. Existential detour. The blood of sheep. A state similar to how we behave in loss and grief, or how we act under the blinding effects of a gaseous light. Ángel peligrosamente búho teja. You could be here. No, here. Where. For an ethics of disorientation, one needs to lose the body, and with the body perspective, and with perspective the perception of feeling at home. Migrant orientation. Gospel. Looking in two directions. A lost home. Hetero. A place that is not yet home. Cupid. Spores. Yoghurt. The straight lines of desire shatter and fall, prolonging the body, creating new outlines by a disorienting effect that makes us feel familiar places as points of pressure, of suffocation or asphyxiation, of obligation to renounce oneself. Compressed light. Trail of blood. Quickly. Other lines of desire appear in the failure of the experience beyond the straight lines that configured its initial orientation. Where. The world invents its compulsory narratives. Where. Where is here. Here is a spectre. The spectre is queer, like Veronica. We cannot establish it in our understanding, for it is a movement that sways in the shadows of the in-between. Hegemonic spectres, those living in the lights. Revolutionary ghosts, hidden in the shadows of memory. They come from the past and murmur from the futures we have imagined. They simultaneously speak to us of the fear in that which is beyond our comprehension and out of view. Symptomatic of the prospective limitations of the time in which it has been invoked, making visible its deep state of mind and stealthily participating in its cultural trends. or how. — THE WAY OF GRIEF (Núria Gómez Gabriel, 2023):  Veronica wipes the face of Jesus. In fact, veronica is the veil with which, according to the Bible, a character the evangelists tell us nothing about and is in all probability an invention of Christian piety and tenderness would have been moved to wipe the dirty, painful and bloody face of Jesus on the Way of Grief. Veronica is the canvas, the impression in blood and shit, the vera icono, the image, the trace, the material spectre evoking all those faces disfigured by anger, rage, shouting and slander. How wound and mistreatment, having passed the traces of filth and death onto the image, deserve the attention of all those who want to know their stomach, wipe away their sweat and drink their life-giving blood.   or how. We do not give a damn about God’s love. What brings us together here is a collection of parables, mini-stories, frightening tales of kisses and bites, leaps into the void, bridges, fiery little tongues and cleansing ceremonies. These tales accompany us in the task of considering an ethics of disorientation, mourning and woundedness. Sour to the taste, unpleasant, poisonous. A mental or emotional state that corrodes or gnaws away. Bitterness. Resentment. An ethics of disorientation will always be unhinged. It applies to the present time. Perverse. Deadly and pink. A time that is disjointed, disrupted, dislocated, unhinged, harassed and disturbed, unbalanced and at the same time unkempt and crazy. A time that is perceived to be populated by immaterial presences, which often haunt us, watch over us or even possess us, to the point of psychosis. Where. Bringing to the foreground the ghosts of the material. Existential detour. The blood of sheep. A state similar to how we behave in loss and grief, or how we act under the blinding effects of a gaseous light. Ángel peligrosamente búho teja. You could be here. No, here. Where. For an ethics of disorientation, one needs to lose the body, and with the body perspective, and with perspective the perception of feeling at home. Migrant orientation. Gospel. Looking in two directions. A lost home. Hetero. A place that is not yet home. Cupid. Spores. Yoghurt. The straight lines of desire shatter and fall, prolonging the body, creating new outlines by a disorienting effect that makes us feel familiar places as points of pressure, of suffocation or asphyxiation, of obligation to renounce oneself. Compressed light. Trail of blood. Quickly. Other lines of desire appear in the failure of the experience beyond the straight lines that configured its initial orientation. Where. The world invents its compulsory narratives. Where. Where is here. Here is a spectre. The spectre is queer, like Veronica. We cannot establish it in our understanding, for it is a movement that sways in the shadows of the in-between. Hegemonic spectres, those living in the lights. Revolutionary ghosts, hidden in the shadows of memory. They come from the past and murmur from the futures we have imagined. They simultaneously speak to us of the fear in that which is beyond our comprehension and out of view. Symptomatic of the prospective limitations of the time in which it has been invoked, making visible its deep state of mind and stealthily participating in its cultural trends. or how. — THE WAY OF GRIEF (Núria Gómez Gabriel, 2023):  Veronica wipes the face of Jesus. In fact, veronica is the veil with which, according to the Bible, a character the evangelists tell us nothing about and is in all probability an invention of Christian piety and tenderness would have been moved to wipe the dirty, painful and bloody face of Jesus on the Way of Grief. Veronica is the canvas, the impression in blood and shit, the vera icono, the image, the trace, the material spectre evoking all those faces disfigured by anger, rage, shouting and slander. How wound and mistreatment, having passed the traces of filth and death onto the image, deserve the attention of all those who want to know their stomach, wipe away their sweat and drink their life-giving blood.   or how. We do not give a damn about God’s love. What brings us together here is a collection of parables, mini-stories, frightening tales of kisses and bites, leaps into the void, bridges, fiery little tongues and cleansing ceremonies. These tales accompany us in the task of considering an ethics of disorientation, mourning and woundedness. Sour to the taste, unpleasant, poisonous. A mental or emotional state that corrodes or gnaws away. Bitterness. Resentment. An ethics of disorientation will always be unhinged. It applies to the present time. Perverse. Deadly and pink. A time that is disjointed, disrupted, dislocated, unhinged, harassed and disturbed, unbalanced and at the same time unkempt and crazy. A time that is perceived to be populated by immaterial presences, which often haunt us, watch over us or even possess us, to the point of psychosis. Where. Bringing to the foreground the ghosts of the material. Existential detour. The blood of sheep. A state similar to how we behave in loss and grief, or how we act under the blinding effects of a gaseous light. Ángel peligrosamente búho teja. You could be here. No, here. Where. For an ethics of disorientation, one needs to lose the body, and with the body perspective, and with perspective the perception of feeling at home. Migrant orientation. Gospel. Looking in two directions. A lost home. Hetero. A place that is not yet home. Cupid. Spores. Yoghurt. The straight lines of desire shatter and fall, prolonging the body, creating new outlines by a disorienting effect that makes us feel familiar places as points of pressure, of suffocation or asphyxiation, of obligation to renounce oneself. Compressed light. Trail of blood. Quickly. Other lines of desire appear in the failure of the experience beyond the straight lines that configured its initial orientation. Where. The world invents its compulsory narratives. Where. Where is here. Here is a spectre. The spectre is queer, like Veronica. We cannot establish it in our understanding, for it is a movement that sways in the shadows of the in-between. Hegemonic spectres, those living in the lights. Revolutionary ghosts, hidden in the shadows of memory. They come from the past and murmur from the futures we have imagined. They simultaneously speak to us of the fear in that which is beyond our comprehension and out of view. Symptomatic of the prospective limitations of the time in which it has been invoked, making visible its deep state of mind and stealthily participating in its cultural trends. or how. — THE WAY OF GRIEF (Núria Gómez Gabriel, 2023):  Veronica wipes the face of Jesus. In fact, veronica is the veil with which, according to the Bible, a character the evangelists tell us nothing about and is in all probability an invention of Christian piety and tenderness would have been moved to wipe the dirty, painful and bloody face of Jesus on the Way of Grief. Veronica is the canvas, the impression in blood and shit, the vera icono, the image, the trace, the material spectre evoking all those faces disfigured by anger, rage, shouting and slander. How wound and mistreatment, having passed the traces of filth and death onto the image, deserve the attention of all those who want to know their stomach, wipe away their sweat and drink their life-giving blood.   or how. We do not give a damn about God’s love. What brings us together here is a collection of parables, mini-stories, frightening tales of kisses and bites, leaps into the void, bridges, fiery little tongues and cleansing ceremonies. These tales accompany us in the task of considering an ethics of disorientation, mourning and woundedness. Sour to the taste, unpleasant, poisonous. A mental or emotional state that corrodes or gnaws away. Bitterness. Resentment. An ethics of disorientation will always be unhinged. It applies to the present time. Perverse. Deadly and pink. A time that is disjointed, disrupted, dislocated, unhinged, harassed and disturbed, unbalanced and at the same time unkempt and crazy. A time that is perceived to be populated by immaterial presences, which often haunt us, watch over us or even possess us, to the point of psychosis. Where. Bringing to the foreground the ghosts of the material. Existential detour. The blood of sheep. A state similar to how we behave in loss and grief, or how we act under the blinding effects of a gaseous light. Ángel peligrosamente búho teja. You could be here. No, here. Where. For an ethics of disorientation, one needs to lose the body, and with the body perspective, and with perspective the perception of feeling at home. Migrant orientation. Gospel. Looking in two directions. A lost home. Hetero. A place that is not yet home. Cupid. Spores. Yoghurt. The straight lines of desire shatter and fall, prolonging the body, creating new outlines by a disorienting effect that makes us feel familiar places as points of pressure, of suffocation or asphyxiation, of obligation to renounce oneself. Compressed light. Trail of blood. Quickly. Other lines of desire appear in the failure of the experience beyond the straight lines that configured its initial orientation. Where. The world invents its compulsory narratives. Where. Where is here. Here is a spectre. The spectre is queer, like Veronica. We cannot establish it in our understanding, for it is a movement that sways in the shadows of the in-between. Hegemonic spectres, those living in the lights. Revolutionary ghosts, hidden in the shadows of memory. They come from the past and murmur from the futures we have imagined. They simultaneously speak to us of the fear in that which is beyond our comprehension and out of view. Symptomatic of the prospective limitations of the time in which it has been invoked, making visible its deep state of mind and stealthily participating in its cultural trends. or how. — THE WAY OF GRIEF (Núria Gómez Gabriel, 2023):  Veronica wipes the face of Jesus. In fact, veronica is the veil with which, according to the Bible, a character the evangelists tell us nothing about and is in all probability an invention of Christian piety and tenderness would have been moved to wipe the dirty, painful and bloody face of Jesus on the Way of Grief. Veronica is the canvas, the impression in blood and shit, the vera icono, the image, the trace, the material spectre evoking all those faces disfigured by anger, rage, shouting and slander. How wound and mistreatment, having passed the traces of filth and death onto the image, deserve the attention of all those who want to know their stomach, wipe away their sweat and drink their life-giving blood.   or how. We do not give a damn about God’s love. What brings us together here is a collection of parables, mini-stories, frightening tales of kisses and bites, leaps into the void, bridges, fiery little tongues and cleansing ceremonies. These tales accompany us in the task of considering an ethics of disorientation, mourning and woundedness. Sour to the taste, unpleasant, poisonous. A mental or emotional state that corrodes or gnaws away. Bitterness. Resentment. An ethics of disorientation will always be unhinged. It applies to the present time. Perverse. Deadly and pink. A time that is disjointed, disrupted, dislocated, unhinged, harassed and disturbed, unbalanced and at the same time unkempt and crazy. A time that is perceived to be populated by immaterial presences, which often haunt us, watch over us or even possess us, to the point of psychosis. Where. Bringing to the foreground the ghosts of the material. Existential detour. The blood of sheep. A state similar to how we behave in loss and grief, or how we act under the blinding effects of a gaseous light. Ángel peligrosamente búho teja. You could be here. No, here. Where. For an ethics of disorientation, one needs to lose the body, and with the body perspective, and with perspective the perception of feeling at home. Migrant orientation. Gospel. Looking in two directions. A lost home. Hetero. A place that is not yet home. Cupid. Spores. Yoghurt. The straight lines of desire shatter and fall, prolonging the body, creating new outlines by a disorienting effect that makes us feel familiar places as points of pressure, of suffocation or asphyxiation, of obligation to renounce oneself. Compressed light. Trail of blood. Quickly. Other lines of desire appear in the failure of the experience beyond the straight lines that configured its initial orientation. Where. The world invents its compulsory narratives. Where. Where is here. Here is a spectre. The spectre is queer, like Veronica. We cannot establish it in our understanding, for it is a movement that sways in the shadows of the in-between. Hegemonic spectres, those living in the lights. Revolutionary ghosts, hidden in the shadows of memory. They come from the past and murmur from the futures we have imagined. They simultaneously speak to us of the fear in that which is beyond our comprehension and out of view. Symptomatic of the prospective limitations of the time in which it has been invoked, making visible its deep state of mind and stealthily participating in its cultural trends. or how. —