You've been on my mind since I was a little girl, and seemingly well-meaning strangers would ask how many of you I would bring into the world. You've been on my mind on a few mornings-after, when the aftermath of awkward sexual encounters made the possibility of you scarily tangible. You've been on my mind throughout Malika Fankha's work in progress showing of her new work Oxy moron, as she weaved poetic imagery and intimately detailed stories into a cyborg utopia.
While Malika contemplated the possibility of a future form of living organisms, I found myself fantasizing about your speculative existence. Worrying about how your life would turn out if you were to become real. Sighing with relief, when hearing from the mouth of another woman, that you may not ever exist at all and that it is also a valid option. Letting my brain run wild with thoughts of what your great-great-great-grand-kids might be like.
Maybe they'll grow glowing green eyes at the back of their skulls
And their bodies will have no front nor back
Just an outside armor of purple latex with a soft core. Not unlike shrimps.
Maybe they'll have nipples on their knees and hearts on their tongues
So each word they say will feel raw and they'll always feel a little too deep. Give that extra detail that brings them over the edge of over-sharing.
Maybe they'll taste colors and see sounds, and each time they'll make themselves cum their bodies will turn sky blue. Like sexy smurfs or the goddess Kali. Or the hot chick from avatar.
I hope that sentences like "the clock is ticking" will be erased from their vocabulary, but maybe corny pick-up lines should stay, so that they too can laugh at grotesque flirting attempts.
Maybe they'll be poets and drink silver water.
Maybe they'll save the planet, levitate and feel cosmic love, and hopefully develop a technology that makes digesting chickpeas easier on their cyborg stomachs.
I imagine them with wires coming out of each pore of their skin, nerve endings plugging into looping pedals and beat machines, sharing consensual music making orgasms with electronic devices. And I really hope they'll develop quaint magnetic nipples so they never, ever have to loose their lighter again when attending their weekly post-galactic-porn-party.
Stay down to earth. Just maybe not this one.(1)
From the past, with love,
(1) Text from Malika Fankha-Oxy Moron
Claire Lefèvre is a French choreographer, performer and writer based in Vienna. She took part in imagetanz in 2016 and 2017 with her works Function Man and S/M and showed Welcome to the Fisch-Haus in brut in 2018.
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