When in great pain, the body
is not an agent but a vesicle;
a storage unit for the public, waiting beyond the body, which sounds off as waves.
The bullet of the state, an entrance and the fissure deepening, wedging, into the body, is not a static gesture. The bullet is a projection of fear of pain, pain in the body extended to the body beyond the one, the loved ones. Ones in great fear, in great pain or anticipation of bodily intrusion, fight to maintain agency. The state’s bullet is not foreign to us; it is our extension beyond the body of one, to ones. We may strive to deepen the rupture between one and state, to assume we are held higher, we hold ourselves higher, we would not show fear, or act on it. We are not beyond the body, and we collect in geographical space: a state. And so the bullet is of ourselves. It is of our fear, in the body. Our minds part of a body. Dissociation impossible, we inhabit physicality, mechanisms, we do not control our primal collective body, the agon-ic, scream, mourning Antigone’s brother, his bodily invasion, the rupture, the bullet of Creon, the sacrifice of Iphigenia by Agamemnon, her father, killing the deer for primal Artemis, enraged—
this bullet is our fear, the state is our bullet, aimed at the one body.
After Divya Victor