Broken immanence: wasn't that our other name for our movement? Broken immanence: didn't we imagine a whole book series under that name? Whole conferences and colloquia? Didn't we imagine those words to be written on marchers' placards or scrawled across Sorbonne walls?
Broken immanence: whisper it. It's like a password. It's a key in a lock, but in what kind of door? The door of the sky. The door of a night without stars. And when you open it? When you turn back the sky?
Lars Iyer's Blog 