as he toured the city today I noted the serious deterioration. I do not reach any of Calvin's invisible cities, even Eufemia, "the city where the memory is changed at each solstice and equinox at all." I got to play with your eyes runoff from the dreams of the modernists and the utopian and I could feel in the body the precariousness of the machinery that keeps it running, on edge, making crossings so that does not collapse all at the same time.
But I stopped at a corner, the best visual metaphor to talk about the contemporary city: a building crumbling and half-built. There, between cement and rods, walls fall and rise structures, lightweight intervention despite its lightness is not lost, a simple stencil in black and white, a square whose right-wing bird trapped in what falls and its left wing, badly drawn, looking for what is built. Did not bring camera, my labors were others-and claro, me arrepentí-, porque documentar la velocidad en que las ruinas se convierten en intentos de ciudad, amerita una documentación visual. Me detuve un momento para tratar de entablar un diálogo ficticio con Kublai: he visto una ciudad, Gran Kan, le diría, que se desbarranca sobre sí misma; no hay niños en esa ciudad y los jóvenes viven temerosos aprisionados por las ruedas de máquinas que les roban el aliento o atrincherados en el pequeño espacio que transcurre entre sus sueños y las posibilidades restringidas de esta ciudad que olvida su nombre. Un pájaro, Gran Kan, insomne y leve, vigila inútilmente la mutación de las ruinas.
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