its a book written by a Book, about how the Book conjured the same sensations; in which it writes on; in me.
this book uses the language of the Book to reenact and emulate the sensations in which it writes on; through returning to the returning points, and growing exponentially in length.
i write, or don't write, this book by rereading the Book when coming to each returning point; and attempting to gather the shards of coherence as one does after dreaming, or Dreaming True.
this is my experience of the Book, in which i am/have//always//been deeply connected to; both my book and the Book are written by Hélène Cixous; not me. i found it through its translator Laurent Milesi, of whom both books are also in part written by, by way of his translation; and the Book found me through its name, Philippines.
i have disconnects, including the disconnect to one half of me unlinked ancestrally in the Philippines; and yet Philippines relinks me with my experiences of telepathic communication with my other. it relinks me to an understanding i came to prior to reading the Book, that of a returning moment of Dreaming True, which i had understood in what I termed 'in canon bloom' in a piece of delirious writing.
'in canon bloom' was my articulation of a visionary state of undergoing thought processes, in which i saw a vision of two flowers amidst void, one blooming as the other closed, then the other, then the other. as a singular thought was followed, i could only retain meaning by the end if i returned to the beginning; allowed that first flower of thought to close as the next flower (which is the same flower unknowingly) opened for the first time (which is again, unknowingly).
but could i ever remember the first flower when i was on to the second? no, because it was always the first. and when it comes to what i can only attempt to word as moments of irrational viscereality, only then do we see we are returning, are made aware that we have returned, that this sensation of being without time has happened before and we have gained access again for an undefined period until we forget. until we are looking for the keys again.
reflections mid-process, written June 2018
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This is an unfinished work
Return etc., performance of excerpts with accompanying sound piece at Where I'm Coming From, Tramshed; Gwdi Hw; Radio Platfform at the Wales Millenium Centre; Communion at SHIFT
Essay on the process to be published by Parthian in early 2020
