SALT

revised. 2nd Aug 2025

If there be a self, let it have the body too, lest self can avoid salt altogether. And what such self would be if not a site of constant evaporation of nothing, not even a blind single cell?

Body is mine. Only Body is mine, and it has this strange habit of accumulating salt of the earth,  weighing heavy on the soul. Time blows the entropy ever gently,  deposits calcium over calcium, tooth over tooth, and decay over decay, as if the cosmos ccouldn’t wait to switch the lights off and rest for an eternity. Nothing then would stick to nothing, not even the stuff inside a single cell bacteria. Calcium has arrived to claim the remainder— Everything. All stories, hunger, love, and phenomenology, found well rested in what remained— an absent nose and half a jaw found in the dig. No name.

I cover the house; my body, with clothes, and my mind with thoughts. Though it gets heavier and for all who are born naked, it takes a lifetime to learn to carry the extra weight which shouldn’t have been theirs in the first place. Seeing that it starts with salt and ends with bones, I took off all my clothes and started to brush my teeth vigorously until my gums started to bleed. No! Not the blood! blood is mine. Scrape and floss the deposit, whatever I did not arrive with. Shoes, pens, thought and calcification. Scrape the shit out until a weightless soul reveals itself. Scared, I punched myself in the face but morales fell off, exposing the root canal. Take the deposit, not the roots; they are mine. Fixed my face but the jaw came off. Not the jaw, it’s mine to keep. It has to be dug out and found in the future. Take what I didn’t come with.

I put back the roots and fix my teeth, then the face, using the Bataillian scalpel instead of a Kantian hammer. Kant is good for breaking stones, not fixing people. I might have to sacrifice a few teeth, but I must lose them from the place of abundance, not transaction. Gave away my right toe. We weren’t exactly talking-talking for a while now. Giving away the unproductive surplus, the accursed share, I am keeping the body.

Whatever arrives, arrives as a deposit and attracts deposit—salt. Whatever arrives, arrives from, and for an erosion. it’s only salt— walking back towards a time yet to come. You will be found in the form of a broken skull and half a jaw. The future is made of the past. All that happened, will be found, collected, and returned.