I’ve been looking a lot at Nan Goldin’s photographs when I was in Rome, in a book in the hotel, i felt like every image was from my life in the past present or future, or in my dreams. Then I was reading about Jean-Luc Nancy, apparently he had a heart transplant 10 years ago, and when his body was rejecting the foreign body inside it, he found he finally could write the essay about immigration in France that Derrida had asked him to write years before - he understood the problem of immigration, through his body. These two things, nan goldin and nancy’s heart’s immigration, seemed connected, knowledge through the body.
In rome we went to Ostia, to the beach where Pasolini was murdered and his body was left. I hadn’t understood that Rome was so close to the sea, and i though pasolini had been killed after sex in a field not on a beach, so different, and now Rome is also different for me with the presence of the sea and that pine forest.