Since the wasps of a new mechanical species move in a dance to the rhythm of a buzzing sound inside our heads — either because they entered through the fine fissures of the bone membranes or because they forced their way through the cranial openings to spread through those soft, spongy masses where language is geographically located, and there they fabricate a jelly of images, the result of a mixture of experiences — they encourage our desire to perform actions that, when viewed from the outside, seem absurd but whose meaning corresponds to our intuitions. Otherwise, these intuitions would remain captive to the illusions of clarity that we repress for fear of creating conflicts or out of laziness to defend what we believe to be accurate, abstracting ourselves from measuring the forces between the inside and the outside, and letting ourselves fall into an apathetic sleepiness that camouflages the extraordinary capacity to become exactly what we are, without hope of conversion into something else. This is not a metaphor, for example, to describe an experience of animal ecstasy nor a science fiction image; it is simply what happens to us very frequently when the mechanical wasps vibrate inside us. Therefore, these lines guide us in a hypothetical choreographic realization — which already served as a manual in 2012 when they were first published — and now may perhaps be useful again when it is opportune to underline how dance is a disruptive expression of a set of expectations that do not belong to us and that assert themselves as drivers of singularities.

2023