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Josefina Ayerza

 

[...]The very terrifying story of Mr. Sandman rings a bell, with regard to the Speaking body you carry along. After Metallica,

Now I lay me down to sleep,
I pray the Lord my soul to keep,
If I shall die before I wake,
I pray the Lord my soul to take.

Hush little baby, don’t say a word
And never mind that noise you heard
It’s just the beasts under your bed
In your closet, in your head

Exit: light
Enter: night
Grain of sand

Hoffmann’s texts get to the heart of such an experience, “the subject goes from one inveiglement to the next, faced with this form of image that strictly speaking materializes.[...]

 

 

 

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