VAMP RHETORIC 1

– Do you want to know the rest of the story, K?– Sabrina asks, smiling again after that unjustified outburst of anger.– Tell me, I replied. Then she utters three obscenities referring to three of Beatriz's private parts, then accuses Carmen of not being cultured enough, and in the fading afternoon light coming through the window, her face darkens again. Silent, she seems astonished by what she said, yet she looks mockingly, as if this were some kind of test, in which everyone must constantly test each other. The results are impossible to correct:– Marquis Sade, K? I have an acquaintance in Rio, a lover perhaps, whom I buy dinner for every now and then. You're so innocent... you miss so much, with your "suddenly"– her sentences sound incoherent, frightening.

"Stop it, both of you," Beatriz shouts from the kitchen doorway, mixing distress and affection. She comes closer and puts her arms around my shoulders. "You and I are the same species, K," Sabrina says, smiling confidently, "but I see no similarity between us." I missed Beatriz's constant presence by my side these past few hours, our needs resolved in spiritual impacts, our own shrill walls, this endless internal dialogue. I couldn't imagine what my relationship with Sabrina was, a character in so many of my reflections, deductions, and self-accusations, all now superficially scratched by contact with Beatriz, worn out too quickly in unused scripts, but still with deep instincts retained in the unconscious, telling me I was right. Freedom surrounded meme with its subconscious proposals, transforming us into whirlwinds of wind on the paths of space. There were a few kilometers of white sand, beyond which Beatriz's inn was located, between the bay and the ocean. And yet another island in front of the island where the inn was located. The island's dunes rose in small hills, suddenly disappearing into valleys where a hiker might think themselves lost in the Sahara Desert if they set out at noon without a map. Beyond this desert of white sand lost in the middle of the road lies a fishing village that, with time and a little cement, became a district. Three kilometers long and two streets wide, the district winds around the island, a bright expanse with Mediterranean hues, huddled and steep roofs, fishing railings, and fishing boats whose smell of mackerel and gasoline brings to mind whiskey and syphilitic mermaids in roadside nightclubs.

Beatriz picked up a glass of drink from the floor, laughing. "When will you be back here, K?" I pretended not to know, taking my new book out of my backpack. "DragDrukpa," I said. Bon's spontaneity. "There are many ways to fight in this life, K, and attributing suspicious words and actions to innocent people is one of them, it's sucking them dry with your ego, inquisitorially." The Vampire is only what we take for ourselves (I said), an energy-stealing ego, a foreign installation, an external mind, inorganic, a parasite that occupies us. "I am another," in my translation of Rimbaud, I wrote, "More! Who made my tongue perfide tellement?!" But, returning to our fable, the stake in the vampire's chest is the chisel of discernment, which, upon penetrating the heart, dissolves self-importance, and the mental currents of the human world are replaced by pure nirvanic Anatha. Imbued with metatextuality, the postmodern work of post modern art ---------------------------proves to be, in fact, eminently allegorical and therefore subject to a structuring of cross-references. After an ostracism of almost two centuries (when it was almost considered an aesthetic aberration), allegory has returned to the spotlight. In Craig Owens's opinion, all contemporary art (why not say, sensibility) possesses an undeniable allegorical tone that manifests itself, among other things, in an oppressive tendency toward "reactivations" of the past and history (clearly visible, initially, in architectural practice). In a strategic essay, he seeks to assess this emerging trend and determine the extent of its impact on the theory and practice of the visual arts. If we agree with Owens that “allegory occurs each time a text has its double in another” and that “in the allegorical structure, one text is ‘read through’ another, however fragmentary, intermittent, or chaotic their relationship may be: the paradigm of the allegorical work (being), therefore, the palimpsest, the trap, creating new instant fables, and their apprehension would increase as soon as Sabrina returned.