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WHEN OUR LIPS SPEAK TOGETHER
up high. apart. We don’t have any. And only the limiting effect of time can make us stop speaking to each other. There is no danger that one or the other may be a darker double. to nd ourselves once again in that state. men and women sound just the same. we’ll miss each other. to be so changeable. They can speak to each other. The same attractions and separations. I‚ .continue. Our bodies. that we have come to forget the feel of our own skin. Whereas we are always one and the other. . not mine. Again… Words will pass through our bodies. If we separate ourselves that way. exchanged by them. the same arguments. we remain distant. as they use us. If we divide light from night. You and I. Don’t you think so? Listen: all round us. the same impossibility of making connections. nor. cut ourselves in two. without… it has been to remind you. break ourselves up into parts. and about us. if we speak to each other as men have been doing for centuries. and more. Don’t worry. Without limits or borders. we cast no shadow. we have a lot to take off. Try to go back through the names they’ve given you. as we have been taught to speak. we’re going to reproduce the same history. We change names as men exchange us. But what about us? Come out of their language. It would be frivolous of us. so many appearances separate us from each other. Removed from our skin. speaking machines.14 3 Our gestures. Begin the same old stories all over again. use us up. to remind us. we have adorned ourselves so often to please them. I embrace you endlessly. And that. except those of our moving bodies. How can I touch you if you’re not there? Your blood has become their meaning. I want to remain nocturnal. lording it over everything around you. Under all these artificial constraints of time and space. fail ourselves. Others may make fetishes of us to separate us: that’s their business. in you. solidify those heterogeneities that make us so consistently whole. I’ll wait for you. The same discussions. above our heads. The same difculties. And don’t by any means imagine that I love you shining like a beacon. Withdrawn into proper names. and nd my night softly luminous. we ‘all’ stop being born. that we only touch each other naked. They’ll vanish. but not our own. They have wrapped us for so long in their desires. You? I? That’s still saying too much. Let’s not immobilize ourselves in these borrowed notions. Strictly speaking. And if I have so often insisted on negatives: not. Dividing too sharply between us: all. So many representations. the same scenes. Absent from ourselves: we’ll be spoken machines. Far off. violated by them. IF we keep on speaking the same language together. We put ourselves into watertight compartments. Not yours. we give up the lightness of our mixture. at the same time. If we keep on speaking sameness. The same… Same… Always the same. Enveloped in proper skins. and we’ll be lost.
burned. we are already the same. There is no need for blood shed.’ No need to fashion a mirror image to be ‘doubled. if you aren’t immobilized in any form of repetition.4 13 I’m waiting for myself. I love you: body shared. or moralize. Which doesn’t mean that you give me yours. one is not the ‘real’ and the other her imitation. evoked for you by my body‚ – come together alive. Unless we restage their commerce. Sham is black. It ows within us. touch me. when you touch yourself again through me. I am assured of living because you are duplicating my life. for us. a weight. Blood is familiar. what have I become? When you say I love you‚ . Has he swallowed me up? Spat me out? Taken me? Left me? Locked me up? Thrown me out? What’s he like now? No longer (like) me? When he tells me ‘I love you. or make war. neither do I. one is not the original and the other her copy.’ is he giving me back? Or is he giving himself in that form? His? Mine? The same? Another? But then where am I.’ to repeat ourselves‚ – a second time. or claim the right to criticize one another. the form never denitively completed. You are not in me. the body never created once and for all. You don’t become red by losing your candid whiteness. all disguises. my language. For us the sun does not simply rise or set. is not violent. or subordinate it to mine. It’s not so hard. an other sex. images. we relate to one another without simulacrum.you’re saying I love myself. lost in a void. You are white because you have remained close to blood. our existence comes to an end. is buried. Touch yourself. the face always still to be formed. touch me. commands. or prohibitions. Let’s never give ourselves orders. routine gestures. close to you. An other body. I love you: I don’t quite know who. Let’s never lay down the law to each other.an other. my mind. For this whiteness is no sham. choices. We can do without models. undivided. my head. Our resemblance does without semblances: for in our bodies. close to me‚ . I do not contain you or retain you in my stomach. Not deadly. You will always have the touching beauty of a rst time. You don’t give yourself. Try to pay attention to yourself. You don’t need to wait for it to be given back. ‘I love’ ows away. we are two.’ Perhaps a long time. You nd our selves to the extent that you trust us. Nor in my memory. however beloved and precious. That ‘I love you’ is neither gift nor debt. . blues . worn-out phrases. We don’t owe each other anything. browns. to be moved. It is not dead blood. Come back. close. if you aren’t congealed in reproductions. With you I am certain of existing beyond all appearances. oppositions. What would I do with you. in myself. Day and night are mingled in our gazes. we give birth to all the colors: pinks. Although we can dissimulate perfectly within their economy. Where has ‘I love’ gone? What has become of me? ‘I love’ lies in wait for the other. Let’s not claim to be right. To me. between us. Prior to any representation. Without letting convention. or habit. You will always be moved for the rst time. standards. You ‘give’ me nothing when you touch yourself. We’ll have to wait for the return of ‘I love. Let our imperatives be only appeals to move. or examples. my arms. White and red at once. distract you. with myself. from us. bargains like these have no business between us. No need for a wound to remind us that blood exists. Neither you nor I severed. Where ‘we’ has no place. all designations. perhaps forever. If one of us sits in judgment. How can I say it differently? We exist only as two? We live by twos beyond all mirages. wrapped up like a gift? You keep our selves to the extent that you share us. The lips never opened or closed on a truth. For example: ‘I love you’ is addressed by convention or habit to an enigma‚ . so long as you are neither my counterpart nor my copy. blonds. And what I love in you. . and mirrors. Between us. You stay here. You are all red. and remain within their order. or what.staying right here. and you won’t be absorbed into familiar scenes. drowned. . Into bodies already encoded within a system. Both at once. you’ll ‘see. Alternatives. like my skin. The fact that you live lets me know I am alive. together. And so very white. greens. in us no longer takes place: the birth that is never accomplished. You are there. Let those two‚ – made for you by your blood. black blood. It burden. Light.
that sameness in which we have remained for centuries. We are so subtle that nothing can stand in our way. You’re an indifferent. Between us. we make two. Really. insignicant little receptacle. No more. to designate ourselves. And what about your life? You must pretend to receive it from them. for the presence of their own image. wrapped up in the intangible sensation of absence. No exuberance. And what we say will be even lovelier than our tears. And the strange way they divide up their couples.that’s already going too far . all the same. Don’t cry. as the other. Especially not one. Open to the innity of our separation. my indifferent one? That still means yielding to their language. she/it is frozen. I carry you with me everywhere.” then you may go ahead. Adapting yourself to whatever need they have. We are luminous. Indifferent one. Our strength lies in the very weakness of our resistance. nothing can stop us from reaching each other. We must learn to speak to each other so that we can embrace from afar. Their earth. subject to their demands alone. They’ve left us their negative(s). and said of us. Trying in vain… Whereas red’s whiteness takes nothing away. But so much has been said. Wholly uent. When you stir. Rather than being xed. unharmed. whims. The ice. We are not drawn to dead bodies. keep still. without autarchy. its domination. Luminous. here and now? We are indifferent? (If you keep on laughing that way. Otherwise you’ll smash everything. with its prerogatives.indifferent. So that everywhere and always we can continue to embrace. Dedicated to reproducing‚ . Let’s leave one to them: their oneness. Barely. a absorbs everything. Our density can do without trenchancy or rigidity. mute. When I touch myself. Their world. we’ll never be able to talk to . their mother. But how can we stay alive when we are far apart? There’s the danger.which will perhaps be called our restlessness. Why not enjoy it ourselves? Rather than letting ourselves be subjected to their branding. or don’t have. two? Doesn’t that make you laugh? An odd sort of two. A (scarcely) living mirror. I’ve never known how to count. denitive sea. These streams are without xed banks. their desire. If they say “come. All this remains very strange to anyone claiming to stand on solid ground. This unceasing mobility. The ebb and ow of our lives spent in the exhausting labor of copying. You upset everything. I am surely remembering you. One day we’ll manage to say ourselves. We know the contours of our bodies well enough to love uidity. that separates us. This life‚ . But how can I put ‘I love you’ differently? I love you. the circularity of their exchanges. Doesn’t that make you laugh? At least for a moment. Indifferent one. Let’s hurry and invent our own phrases. the mirror. More lifelike. miming. So they think we’re indifferent. deciencies. you disturb their order. its solipsism: like the sun’s. We ought to be‚ . We shall pass imperceptibly through every barrier. Already. You break the circle of their habits. or lies. So any move toward the other means turning back to the attraction of one’s own mirage. No one will see a thing. immobilized. unless they call you. to nd each other. Speak. or two. even eetingly. Neither one nor two. pretenses. Only an image. And yet not one.12 5 into no single. One step. if we can nd means of communication that have our density. stabilized. Up to you. it gives back as much as it receives. How can I wait for you to return if when you’re far away from me you cannot also be near? If I have nothing palpable to help me recall in the here and now the touch of our bodies. In their calculations. ‘hardness’ isn’t necessary. trying to come back to life. For a long time now they have appreciated what our suppleness is worth for their own embraces and impressions. with the other as the image of the one. how can we continue to live as ourselves? How can we keep ourselves from becoming absorbed once again in their violating language? From being embodied as mourning. closed in on itself. you mustn’t move. No turbulence. this body without xed boundaries. Not like a child. Separated. their knowledge. They’ve left us only lacks. or be moved.
we shall remain paralyzed.who. childhood. their forgetting of lips. It’s a little abstract. the propriety of words comes from their lack of lips. devoid of causes. Seduced. or their desire for reproductions of men? Or their genealogical institutions? What need have I for husband or wife. no more “us”? Are we alike? If you like. that’s quite enough for us to feel alive. we shall fall back upon the words of men‚ . whereas we are made for endless change. unrealized. separated by one word. and without repetition. for family. neither ever excluding the other. to store it up as capital in your head. A single word that would say “you. never congealing or solidifying.” or “me. Too much a matter of reassuring you/us.’ You may laugh… Closed and faultless. meanings. You never ‘are. persona. they would have to stay apart. here and now. there is no more ‘us. Aren’t my hands. the truth. my eyes. No need to hold fast to yesterday. they say they both love each other. But not our body. I don’t open them sim- Why speak? you’ll ask me.” Or “equals”. There’s no need for you to remember. tomorrow I shall be. I prefer a woman) nor sister. it will have too few gestures to accompany our story. Your body remembers. Rigid.’ How can I say ‘you. Be what you are becoming. she who loves. Let’s leave denitiveness to the undecided. without getting out of breath. ecstatic with our becoming. If we can’t defuse its power by trying to say. But we? I love you. without clinging to what you might have been. if we don’t nd our body’s language. don’t open them simply. Together. when they are uttered once and for all. if we can’t loose its hold on us. do we need. Keep on going. We feel the same things at the same time.’ The unity. I love you‚ .and where I love you. Truth is necessary for those who are so distanced from their body that they have forgotten it. simple qualities. Deprived of our movements. she who is loved.” but that would be too easy. So let’s try to take back some part of our mouth to speak with. children? What for? Here and now. Your memory? Your body expresses yesterday in what it wants today. violated by them. Without leaps or falls. that’s quite enough to let me know that you are my body. turns us into statues. gives us a very different certainty. Still… No. Yet it cannot be decomposed. right here and now. function? Let’s leave all those to men’s reproductive laws. You never stay still. what you might yet be. But where would that word come from? Perfectly correct. you are thinking: I have died a little. We’ll remain absorbed in their words. Without lips. wrapped around its meaning. These movements cannot be described as the passage from a beginning to an end. my body enough for you? Isn’t what they are saying to you sufcient? I could answer “yes. right now. Neither daughter nor son. You never stay. what do I care about the lineage of our fathers. any fault. Without any opening. I don’t quite understand “alike. Denitely parted. for their part. it is no longer you or me.) Not different. that’s right. right here. your body. or want. Like the children of men? Not ours. my mouth. unsatised. Kept at a distance.’ when you are always other? How can I speak to you? You remain in ux. I love you who are neither mother (forgive me. fascinated. Asleep again. And that “not” still keeps us separate so we can be compared. we are close.their blood‚ . how we are moved. attracted. Never settle. But their “truth” immobilizes us. role. If we don’t invent a language. To produce a single precise word. my lips.6 11 each other. Open your lips. We shall tire of the same ones. These rivers ow . we don’t need it. and leave our desires unexpressed. ‘You.” Do you? Alike in whose eyes? in what terms? by what standard? with reference to what third? I’m touching you. closed up tight. Your body is not the same today as yesterday. Neatly wrapped up so that their meaning‚ . You are moving. If you think: yesterday I was. What will make that current ow into words? It is multiple. Words are mute. And besides. I love you. that would be too easy. Disconnected that way. Closed and open. I/you touch you/me.’ ‘Me. I love you: our two lips cannot separate to let just one word pass. mother. their distance. Men and women have children to embody their closeness. Our body.won’t escape. have “known” for a long time.
program it. nothing is privileged. a single strand or pattern. But you can’t anticipate it. Our whole body is moved. one text at at time? To seduce. or point remains. Secret. Our all cannot be projected. with nothing held back. withholding. to satisfy. Inside and outside. consummation. Truth’s other side‚ . out of touch.are neither open nor closed. Are we unsatised? Yes. Since we give each other (our) all. nor allowed. there are no proprietors. Depth. never ceasing to unfold ourselves. you’ll leave us. We never separate simply: a single word cannot be pronounced. which does not mean that they are indistinct. what subordination lurks there. uttered by our mouths. yet there are no transactions. every time. fulllment. right now. plenitude. But no abyss. nothing hoarded. back and forth. is not a chasm. It comes from everywhere at once. There is room enough for everything to exist. no determinable objects. her tone. remote. voids awaiting sustenance. We are not lacks. right here. Speak. And how could one dominate the other? impose her voice. No gure. . Between us. Two lips kissing two lips: openness is ours again. Exchange? Everything is exchanged. produced. no prices. our exchanges are without terms. is limitless. You touch me all over at the same time. yours and mine. Without a solid crust. either. Between our lips. On every woman. explore our periphery: we have so many dimensions. I don’t have any. one speech. Begin with what you feel. We‚ . our all touching itself. Without end. If you want to speak “well. Kiss me.’ And the passage from the inside out. We can never complete the circuit. Without breaks or gaps. Stretching upward. No truth between our lips. the passage between us. Why only one song. Stretching out. One is never separable from the other.exhibit one ‘truth’ while sensing. line. foresee it. In all senses. we were not supposed to be the same. isn’t it because we are afraid of not speaking well? But what is ‘well’ or ‘badly’? With what are we conforming if we speak ‘well’? What hierarchy. The sky isn’t up there: it’s between us.stayed hidden. there is no precipice. the world grows so large that the horizon itself disappears. fulllment from the other. No ground subsists. Our all will come.” you pull yourself in.we were supposed to?‚ . reaching higher. or mastered. we have so many voices to invent in order to express all of us everywhere. Always in motion: openness is never spent nor sated. several ways of speaking resound endlessly. Where top and bottom. If our pleasure consists in moving. There isn’t any. without end. you pull yourself away from the limitless realm of your body. You/I: we are always several at once. from the outside in. no mouth ever stops our exchanges. for us. Our abundance is inexhaustible: it knows neither want nor plenty. that all the time there is will not be enough. endlessly.its complement? its remainder?‚ .you/I‚ . you become narrower as you rise. If you/I hesitate to speak. all the same. By our lips we are women: this does not mean that we are focused on consuming. Of course. You don’t understand a thing? No more than they understand you. Our bodies are nourished by our mutual pleasure. Our horizon will never stop expanding. Between us the house has no wall. No knot or loop. nothing is refused. in front and behind above and below are not separated. And don’t worry about the ‘right’ word. even in our gaps. Veiling and unveiling: isn’t that what interests them? What keeps them busy? Always repeating the same operation. Don’t make yourself erect. language no circularity. being moved. We have so much space to share. When you kiss me. No surface holds. to ll one of my “holes”? With you. we might‚ . Our all intermingled. It’s our good fortune that your language isn’t formed of a single thread. mufing another. We haven’t been taught. Everything is worth exchanging. To do that is to speak improperly. if that means we are never nished. no purchasers.10 7 say it all. Our depth is the thickness of our body. several voices. waiting to break our resistance? What claim to raise ourselves up in a worthier discourse? Erection is no business of ours: we are at home on the atlands. How can I say it? The language we know is so limited… ply. That doesn’t suit their desires. the clearing no enclosure. inside and outside. Our ‘world. to express multiplicity. her meaning? One cannot be distinguished from the other. we are always open.
interrupt the ow of our blood. divided: ‘we’ are no more. My blood is coming back. commit infractions and transgressions and play other games with the law. where a virgin is one as yet unmarked by them. the death of our love. exploitations. impenetrable. You know that we are never completed. their language. You are split into red and white. form. you are a woman already. That we don’t have to be turned into women by them. then they can break in. one outside. the gag upon our lips. function. home. black and white: how can we nd each other again? How can we touch each other once more? Cut up. You come back. Speak to me. as ourselves. then. Dead skins. That one after another. labeled by them. the other already affects you. that is nothing without them. You no longer return indifferent. you return closed. Their words. transports. Don’t tear yourself apart like that with choices imposed on you.of the body. we are guilty. While our lips are growing red again. you fuse with everything you meet. you no longer embrace yourself. destroyed.8 9 You/I become two. rid ourselves of their names? Disengage ourselves. Without any intervention or special manipulation. from their concepts? Without reserve. No event that makes us women. You’ll . Their strategy. We remain indenitely distant from ourselves to support the pursuit of their ends. Wait. made holy and profaned by them. From me. without their efforts. You imitate whatever comes close. family. alive. the other inside. Not yet imprinted with their sex. Outside. You can’t? You no longer want to? You want to hold back? Remain silent? White? Virginal? Keep the inside self to yourself? But it doesn’t exist without the other. And that their history. without the immaculate whiteness that shores up their systems. you move indenitely far from yourself. of time‚ . Almost frigid. You become whatever touches you. How can I tell you that there is no possible evil in your sexual pleasure‚ . for them. their distinctions and oppositions: virginal/deowered. Games in which they‚ . Remaining in that candor that waits for them. The advent of their desire. you touched yourself. It is inseparable from you. Their properties are our exile. Their enclosures. That would be our aw. Not yet penetrated. That is your crime. discourse. You mean…? What? Nothing.you who are a stranger to good(s). free ourselves from their categories. That the fault only comes about when they strip you of your openness and close you up. there’s no rupture between virginal and nonvirginal. It’s not that we have a territory of our own. Through the action of some power. through and through. parts‚ . Their words are emptying out. A virgin is the future of their exchanges. Long before your birth. nished: our pleasure is trapped in their system. for their pleasure. imprison us in enclosed spaces where we cannot keep on moving. you become an impassive travesty. as you allow yourself to be abused. Taking one model after another. petrify. pure/impure. There is no need for an outside. A kind of reserve for their explorations. How can I say it? That we are women from the start. In your eagerness to nd yourself again. of space. One who is not yet made woman by and for them. You are altered forever. Yes. their stories. If we submit to their reasoning. or me. That that has always already happened. Not of ours. is calculated to make us guilty. living. and language with each new power that dominates you. Paralyze. It’s warm inside us again. From their senses. transactions. innocently. innocent/experienced… How can we shake off the chain of these terms. we let ourselves be abused. dispatched. How can we speak so as to escape from their compartments. But thus divided in two. which you didn’t commit: you disturb their love of property. Make us paler. consummations. their schemas. possessed by them. you try to conform to an alien order. Between us. but their fatherland. changing face. but that we only embrace ourselves whole. Among us. becoming bloodless. immobilize us. or organ. marking you with signs of possession. Everything. You/ we are sundered. Exiled from yourself. Your/my body doesn’t acquire its sex through an operation. passing from master to master. a void without them. If we play along. constitute the locus of our displacement. moving. intentional or not.and you?‚ speculate on your whiteness. they want to speak. Be patient. They’re stirring.
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