June 17, 2026
de I Madti by Sànpert Every container is temporary for her, every embankment a temporary respite. He slips, he insists, he circumvents. It offers no resistance and just like that, drop by drop, it consumes the stone. In water’s way of being in the world, there is something that escapes measurement. It doesn’t hold back: it transports. It brings with it fragments, reflections, debris, and mixes them without hierarchy. On the surface it offers trembling images; deep inside it holds currents that cannot be seen, directions that do not coincide with what appears. When he falls, he doesn’t choose. It is distributed, dispersed, infiltrates into every crack. It makes things porous, it opens them by consuming them. Clear lines dissolve, borders loosen, what seemed solid turns out to be crossable. Water introduces a different grammar: not …
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