“I want to be repeated, reproduced, endlessly dispersed, fractured, distributed. Let a thousand copies bloom. I am not interested in being original. In having value. The original of me has no aura. I will be multiplied like the sorcerer’s apprentice’s bedbugs, and you will still need to listen to me. My message is my body. My words are my fingers, are my bleeding colors, my vulgarity.”
Publikace je v angličtině.