Essay IV from Hexalogy Dmitry Anatolyevich Musella Hexalogy - Navigation Map This essay is the fourth in a six-part series. Each essay answers a different question, but all revolve around the same core: who or what determines value? I. Digital Cells Question: How is knowledge structured? Answer: Not hierarchically, but rhizomatically - like the cells of a hive, each node is connected to many others. Dialogue with: Deleuze and Guattari II.

The other shore Rumble: Sun, yellow, sunny. Cherry tree, garden, trees, mulberry tree, yard, circular rounder, seven pieces of glass. Sea, dacha. Corn, watermelon. Joy, loved ones, warmth, many people around, brightness, light. Games, drawings, sister, dreams, swings, wind. Happiness. Dad. Mother. Brother. Football. Ball. Grandmother. Grandfather. Home, comfort. Life. Football, fatigue, hide and seek, mosquitoes. ___ Childhood Rumble: School, homework, pillow, sleep, play, think. Walk, draw.

My breathtaking friend Zhenya - so you are subscribed to me on my phone. You were born on opening day Belarusian Institute of Theater - 1945. And I - on the day of destruction Minsk ghetto, 1943. We couldn't don't meet on the Minsk Sea. It's like a cabaret in the ghetto - two months and one day apart, and at two years from these events. I once told you: Zhenya is Jane. And Jane is Jeanne. (Like d'Arc in my play.) This is how we fight at all. But no sunbathing and burnouts, Please.

The modern world moment is characterized by a fundamental change in temporal orientation, when faith in progress (primarily social and political) loses its legitimacy both at the level of mass consciousness and the ideological orientation of the elites.

Grigory Dashevsky (February 25, 1964 - December 17, 2013) is an amazing poet and, first of all, a master of the short poetic form. Today we have with us his short, scary masterpiece. Grigory Dashevsky. Photo: Facebook I suggest looking at how this poem is structured. Poetry is a miracle, when the lines hold, when reading, you get stuck inside, and you wander, wander through this labyrinth, endlessly feeling it, and now every surface is familiar, every corner. At first you wander blindly.