Where are the forgotten kids? They were collecting cowrie shells, the currency was called porcellana in old Italian. It’s never odd to think that sea snails are materialistic fortune and the fetish of possession can go so far until they themselves have become cowries slowly. They lost their limbs and creeped on the rocky surface. The exercise of evolution seems like a punishment of humanity. One can’t recognise their inhuman bodies as if it’s another world, another life, another politics or another production.
“…this is the price at which you eat sugar in Europe…”, the dialogue in chapter 19 of “Candide” (Voltaire, 1759) haunt our optimism, while we expand the empire at which the sun never set.
epoxy, print. 2020