In the “Borders of Language” section there are fragments of speech from someone without whom the title of the section itself would not have arisen.

You'll worry less about what others think of you when you realize how rarely they think about you. Billions - pulling the strings, controlling minds - influencing through disturbing content - creating an illusory world filled with blood and pampering, we eat what we like for dinner. By creating scarcity or value, managing our paths, jobs, notes of consumption with feelings. Dividing the world into steps, from the bottom to the unattainable.

If you get caught up in the idea that Myth is a place. The very place where the speaker makes a mistake, but pronounces some “truth”. Where “truth” desires to be is the truth of desire. There Farukh found himself. Farukh thought that Myth represents untruth, but as if the very principle of the manifestation of untruth (this or that) precisely informs about the truth, which it only embraces (not) .

It’s not like it is now... Complete problems... The cold rain penetrated to the bones. The water flowed down, as if they wanted to crush me from above, and I jumped. The pain did not come immediately, but when it came, it was not going to go away until it squeezed all the juice out of me. I'm tied up. Warm blood envelops your face. Bloody Mary took my face in her merciless hands. He lay on the ground and moaned to someone for mercy.

The essay by the famous anthropologist and leading researcher of globalization was published in the collection minor cosmopolitan: Thinking Art, Politics, and the Universe Together Otherwise , published by Diaphanes and edited by multidisciplinary decolonial theorist Xiang Zairong . This assemblage of texts and works of art was the result of his minor cosmopolitan weekend project, which took place at the HKW Haus der Kulturen der Welt in Berlin in December 2018.

Illustration by Daria Molodtsova - Riot police, damn it! - Shekhtel shouted. Shekhtel stood under the Great Ascension Church on the Nikitsky Gate in the park. City birds greedily collected stones from the paving slabs. - Riot police, damn it! “Shekhtel repeated a little louder and moved slowly. In a small park there are benches, trees and walking paths. From right to left, an old woman is hobbling along the path with a cane, in a Soviet half-polka, with a string bag in her right hand.

A woman should soften, not weaken a man Sigmund Freud The time of sociopaths, some in a shell, some behind the curtains in the keyhole. The time of the cocoon of childhood with the usual dusty toy, where they serve it, decide on it, buy it, pamper it, kiss it, hug it, and then give it to another girl without asking, and grief sets in, sad wet grief, grief. Time to watch people for fun, their useless actions and vague phrases.

But of course we are all alone. Everyone knows this, it's almost a cliché David Foster Wallace That's what it takes for us to be in love and break up with each other for months; it's even less enough for us to break up for years. Inside, one trembles from warm memories, from vivid emotions, from unusual actions when they walked towards each other, but another slushy time burst in, similar to autumn...