Domination delegates the physical violence on which it rests to the dominated.

Here are the silos down in Salamanca again on a brisk autumn afternoon. I am sick of the sight of those silos, yet I keep taking photographs of them. That is the first sign of my debasement.

I need a good dose of revolutionary zeal. I need some consciousness raising. I need a stiff drink.

Here, have a poem from a younger version of me.

Dialectical Materialism #12

To inhale the feeling that radiated the room
was to breathe in visions of tropical beauty,
lazy days lying on beaches to taste an unknown
something that reached right down into my testicles.
Motionless in a darkened corner, my chance had come,
but alas, a strange fear gripped me and I could not.

I'd have liked to pay some service to your eyes;
a deep blue sea raging fiercely on the inside
as angels cluster around the blessed iris.
And yes I know that I'm the most useless being
to have ever walked on this earth. But you will
never know how much I wanted you. (I'll never say)