a body is a temple with walls that bleed.

They tell me that my bed is a temple (from Latin templum, an open or consecrated space) which i must keep sanctified unto the austere principalities of sleep. They tell me that there i should not use my phone, that i should not eat, that i should not work, that i should not read, that i should not do drugs.

Wait until i tell them about my dreams: they will tell me not to sleep in my bed either.

What are the implications if we suggest that an encounter with the “Absolute” is missing from American politics? That desire for the Absolute haunts us? That it Could be Present/Is the Presence of an Absence/Is a Presence experienced as Absence/Is Made Present by the very Conditions of its Impossibility?