I WAS NOT encountering anything on the borders (was there anything to encounter except for regurgitated feminist bordercrossings and inwardsgoings?) in Ijevan between August 18-21. I was in Aparan instead, trying to (un)catch or unwind from the grammatology of art. The footlights had been removed. The stage was stripped bare . . All of this was against a background of such blackness that it was almost not visible. This appealed to me and would have more so if it hadn't kept me from seeing several heads of people without any makeup on and in costumes representing something between a counter-relief and a commissar's costume.
In the middle of the second, or maybe third act, a messenger arrives and reads an email concerning the losses of the Proletkult.
Behind the scenes someone was beating on an iron sheet and shouting in a theatrical way. In theater jargon that signals an uprising.
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