forewords to my Master Thesis, I

  At the beginning, Neuron sat on the top of the Teufelsberg and he masturbated while contemplating the virgin world below. His orgasm was like the tremble of a Guitar which stroke the earth so hard that its strings broke up free releasing the chords which fell over the earth during the next 2666 years; and the chords were sacred sperm. And so Neuron created Berlin and the flattened land in its surround. And so he created the Spree, and he created the length that the hand can reach. So was born the Road and the roads, the Night and the nights. The sun was born and the moon, and while the chords would fall, then would appear the (wo)man as well. And all (wo)men stood drinking that holy milk, never growing old.

  Well after the chords had posed underneath Berlin, they remained as a tidal wave for ever bending the floor of the city, for ever enlightening whoever would drink the Spree, whoever would listen to its string.

  And then in a final shake, huge as a spike which traverses the spinal cord of the universe, Neuron released the remains of the Guitar from his trembling, stiff and ecstatic hands; and those remains rose up and became unsung chords and fell over the young earth for many centuries more.

  So the universe was born and made: with its structure and its maths, and everything would behave accordingly. But if we were to look at it, its very essence would not be revealed. A dislocation of the being had to take place so we could see.



To part II