form words for years, I allow myself to enjoyable diving in my writing, I let my emotions settle and observe the residue of my intricate terms remained in the background, forget compose music with my voice, thinking, as they are, that everything alive only through and in language. I take in my hands the Heideggerian "Unterwegs zur Sprache" ("On the Way to Language") and try to make my way into its intricate paths, as well as "broken." Seek relief in the profound significance of this work, without a doubt one of the most inspired, not only of Heidegger himself, but of all the philosophical literature contemporary. "Nothing is (is) where the word is missing," reads a line of poetry quoted by Heidegger and I immersed in this paper, I think of how violent the silence, as they are unnatural and choked the words not spoken, how arrogant lock lips in an arbitrary silence. So in my escape from the ghosts seek refuge in my writing, trying to translate the unspeakable, to expose the lies spoken in the first place to myself, to force me to give light to my silence, to condemn me to shed some light on my abyss, convinced (Heidegger) that Being manifests itself only in and through language and its agreements. I'd like you all are consecrated to this religion of the word. Do not make mistakes, do not be dazzled by a fatal error of perspective: the hero to sing about the deeds, this time, she wrote what she wrote, not who runs away without even a word of farewell.
"Love speaks much, is a speech. It is hereby declared, and often culminates in this statement ends: highly ambiguous speech act, almost indecent "(J. Baudrillard, Fatal Strategies ).
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