Wagener Granulomatosis

Brea

I will not elaborate. As is visible just above, this blog has a quote from "head" of José Luis Brea. Often, when asked about that quote, I had to clarify that Brea was not for me an ascendant masterful, but a notable aesthetic thinker who occasionally enjoyed tunes. Tuning is a polysemous word that Brea, I think, liked a lot. For it was common sudden illuminations, synchronicities, which are still out of the detectable but precious to what we are and who we are, knowing that we are, or should be, too other in the name of "radical alterity" who presided over his thinking until the end. Write final Brea because we left on Wednesday.

When I read this quote from Brea sudden I felt a kinship, not me, but so alters with the spirit of this blog, which is proposed in order to critique live of our time. The it was, however, a criticism timeless, rarely set in a bright Uchronics. For this reason there are many who have talked of premonition to see that your last text http://salonkritik.net was entitled " The Last Days . " Well, actually was a 1992 text, which could read things like this, which also tune "inversion of two fictions abstract, theological-political: the end of history and this in recent days . In both symptom and awareness makes the terminal condition of a culture that knows its failure in terms of inability to fully represent the sense or viability of a project subject emancipated, made in a dignified way of living socially. Awareness of the failure of humanism, it is called, with its more painful name-this certainly concerns us irreversibly dark. " His placement as last text and reference to the texts that Benjamin, like lightning, begin to be heard long after it was spotted, it may not be casual, do not know. But his writing Uchronics, its strange syntax, his criticism timeless, it has a 1992 text of Brea may be true today, just a text of his last great book, The 3 eras image (Akal, 2010), perhaps could have been read and understood in 1992.

All silent voice that plunges us into a terrible silence, but some also generates a reverberation further, like the poem by Blas de Otero: "His silence, reverberating." Now we have to continue listening to the deafening silence of the texts.

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