At the center of this book is an allegory: the Soviet film Stalker
(1979). Andrei Tarkovsky shot it under unhealthy environmental conditions in
an abandoned hydroelectric plant. The first months of intakes were
they ruined almost completely; the actors who kept the memory
of that first lost version, young people died like
consequence of the radioactivity of the place. This allegory divides the book into
two parts. The first and most recent includes the series Museum of the Wind. The
second that was originally going to be called Infinite Abandoned Wealth
contains texts composed at the end of the twentieth century in a machine of
writing Olympia portable under extreme social conditions of poverty,
loneliness and ostracism.
The dystopian imaginary of Siberia condenses both halves. The
material preservation of the oldest section a writing
desperate, between autofiction and testimony contradicts in some way
my concept of a wind museum, since it integrated an archive
of unpublished works saved at least temporarily from oblivion by this
publication. In the most current part, I take a couple of snapshots of the
misery of the working class and explored the paradox of retaining the
erased, or that of the double loss that constitutes the concept of the museum of the
wind: a record or memory of what has been lost that in turn is lost and forgotten.
And remembering in amnesia is what my poetry is about. I am the sum of all the
thermos that have been breaking me.