Facebook Igor Dobrovic,  July 19th at 10.19 am : "Meditation is a performance of a delay, is confirmation of a gap, is encounter with a void, is a care for the self. Only a self that cares about its no-thingness can approach the thingness of an aparatus without being caught inside (or outside) of it". July 19th is the birthday of my expired brother. I wanted to call home that day, somehow I didn't. This morning at 5. Sitting went fine, listening to all the noises and movements that visit the body. Body wants to move, body wants to keep the back straight, body remembers that smile inside, that video clip on youtube. Body tastes that flavour, body wants to look inside. Inside the aparatus I wanted to say but lets' just say inside. H sitting at few steps away. Her universe, my universe and the gap in between. The feeling the hearing the thinking. That was what my research wanted to be about, when it started as a want. Tags. Time. Travel. This trick first happened last year, three words in a line as if - why sentences? Why structure? Why not just events? Or facts.

Water. Fresh chill air. Sun, rays, clouds. Feeling the bones on the chair. Feeling. Remembering feeling. Feeling the memory, imagining the feel of it. Imaginaring. Imaginarig a warm shower and a cup of coffee. No, no coffee today, let's keep the restrictions. Yesterday I had one, integrated error. Accepted failure. Today there will be something else. The bell of the church goes on 7 times. 

ah hahaaa and some more serious stuff :

"One way of resolving the dilemma in this case is simply to conclude that, at least according to Kant’s technical definition of knowledge, artists do not know what they are doing. They just do it, and allot to the critics and art historians the task of figuring out what it means and why they bothered. This comforting interpretation, too, has some plausibility: Many artists do, indeed, find it extremely difficult to theorize about what they are doing while they are doing it. It may take years, if ever, before an artist can put together an intelligible commentary about his work that helps it to make sense to everyone else; and surely this is in part to be explained by precisely that direct, intimate and unmediated relationship between the artist and the concrete particular he fashions. That particular is too complicated and overwhelming, too cryptic and multifaceted in its connections and associations, to be captured accurately in even the most fine-grained analysis – simplistic text-book descriptions and classifications of it notwithstanding."

from Piper's "Intuition and Concrete Particularity in Kant’s Transcendental Aesthetic (2006)"

http://www.adrianpiper.com/docs/WebsiteIntuit&ConcrtParticTransAesth(2006).pdf

7.07 this morning. Same morning rituals, short version. Bright sunny morning. Coffee. Cereals. Japanese green tea. Room, window, table, laptop, books.     Looking for the ladybirds, where are they? One is on the table, laying on her elytra, with open wings pointing outwards, her legs up in the air. I blow on her; it makes her fly straight into the dustbin near the table. A soft pressure, as if breathing got stuck a moment too long, in a vague location around/inside the chest.      Is death part of life?  Soon on my way to the next unknown space-time destination. Saying goodbye to things, views, people.                                                                And to you, dear reader. 

was there a day five, day four, day three, day two, day one? yes, they migrated here http://iulianavarodi.com/sixdays.pdf