Antes de ser libro (Before Being a Book)

Before being a book, everything is matter seeking its form. Before the text, there are fibers that breathe, layers that accumulate, that hold time between them — a silent power that safeguards memory and keeps it apart from its destructive potential.

In the series Entrelíneas I explored layers as sedimented time. In Antes de ser libro (Before Being a Book), however, the gesture unfolds horizontally. Verticality — that aspiration toward the transcendent — collapses, leans, lies down, becomes territory; its spine stretches across the ground, like a marrow or a root.

It stops holding up in order to let itself be held. The book loses its axis, abandons the upright posture of knowledge, and lets itself rest on the ground, on the body of the world: a ground of glass that echoes the books of the series El futuro de la humanidad no está en el guerrero sino en el libro (The Future of Humanity Is Not in the Warrior but in the Book).

The work is organized as a patient accumulation, a writing without words. As in everything that precedes language, uncertainty dwells here. Where the text has not yet fixed itself, matter offers itself as possibility: a body that contains the seed of the story, but also its dissolution.

Between the folds, the void breathes: where the word has not yet been born, the work becomes body, ruin, and seed all at once — a book not yet written, before the word, a book yet to come.