The play "Othello" belongs to a number of great tragedies of Shakespeare along with "Macbeth", "King Lear" and "Romeo and Juliet". They understood and staged it differently. And as an edifying story, warning against unequal marriages, and as a tragedy of jealousy, and as a story of gullibility (“Othello is not jealous by nature, on the contrary: he is gullible,” considered A.S. Pushkin, well-known in certain circles).

I? Surrender from the first step. What positions? Defined, determinable, to be determined. What is subject? What are we able to determine? Am I capable of being subject? That is, not from the first step, even before it. What about “before”? Nothing? And that in the gap there is nothing, in this “before-I” milks you, milks your voice, forcing you to say “I” and after this “who speaks?” - subject to speech?

( The full version of the article was published in the magazine “Emergency Reserve”, No. 107 (3/2016)). The column building was known long before Loos, but he managed to breathe new life into this image. There is a Tower-ruin built by Felten in Tsarskoe Selo (1771-1773) and a “Colonne brisee” (c. 1780) by an unknown architect in the Desert de Retz park in Chambourcy, west of Paris, which is a four-story house with a spiral staircase and a basement.

a tragedy in 5 conversations Acting person Petro is a man on the track; Maria is Peter's wife; Pavlo is Peter's neighbor; Ganya is Peter's lover; Yarema is a finished drunkard; Marko is a reporter. Policemen, people on the platform. The first conversation A man in an old suit and cap is sitting on the railway track, next to the platform for suburban trains. He wraps his hands around his knees and looks into the distance. His face is tense, his gaze wild.

... There is no place for the reader here. There is no party to be complicit. They walk through the forest: two of them - she and he. And the forest is burning, leafing through the hills. Strange, he thinks trees stand in the fire like Daniel, and don't burn out. The dead burns half the sky, and the living thing licks fire, illuminated. Like letters there are trees, and the page burns underneath them. What's burning? – spaces, links. And they are standing and turn green. On black, scorched.