More Last Words


Microwork_Breathe © Denise Startin

More or less what follows:  Midnight sounds – the Midnight when the dice must be cast. Igitur descends the stairs of the human mind, goes to the depths of things: as the “absolute” that he is. Tombs-ashes (not feeling, nor mind) dead center. He recites the prediction and makes the gesture. Indifference. Hissings on the stairs. “You are wrong”: no emotion. The infinite emerges from chance, which you have denied. You mathematicians expired – I am projected absolute. I was to finish an Infinite. Simply word and gesture. As for what I am telling you, in order to explain my life. Nothing will remain of you – The infinite at last escapes the family, which has suffered from it – old space – no chance. The family was right to deny it – its life – so that it stayed the absolute. This was to take place in the combinations of the Infinite face to face with the Absolute. Necessary – the extracted Idea. Profitable madness. There one of the acts of the universe was just committed. Nothing else, the breath remained, the end of word and gesture united – blow Out the candle of being, by which all has been. Proof. (Think on that)

Extract from Igitur by Stéphane Mallarmé translated by Mary Ann Caws. Text reproduced from