On Bataille’s “Formless”

Where did I come from? Is there anything in my body that was built from food my mother ate? Or have all the parts been changed out for new ones in 31 years? I don’t know, but it’s all in the code my mother and father “wrote” for me. What to do with the cereal and coconut milk, coffee, water, oxygen I took in this morning; What will be used, and what will be passed through, excreted, sweat out? I’m breaking everything down. Nutrients will be used to build more body; Water will keep everything moving in solution under the skin. Skin, that precious oily barrier, keeping everything swimming inside and organisms that would use me as their food out. On the surface, pores release sweat that takes my heat through evaporation and pheromones that drift off to whisper in receptors. I pump jets of CO2-rich warm moist air out and draw in more oxygen to feed the fires. Matter flows through me, accumulating in me, then dispersed out of me, broken down for energy, until I die. Then everything I possess will be given away.

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