Max Blecher’s Body without Organs.

Max Blecher’s writings are the literary expression of a body of pure intensities. In the middle part of his posthumously published book, The Lit Up Burrow: Sanatorium Journal (Vizuina luminată) one can read the following excerpt:

After the surgery, when I had started yet again to ride the horse drawn carriage on the beach, I found a new town, absolutely different from the one I had known, as if the autumn had made a change to it similar to the one that animals have to suffer during some seasons, making them to change their skin. And the town had changed its skin, and even the sky, and the beach. In everything there was now an elementary simplicity of objects, as if they were only sketched and put in their place, no history, no memory entered the dust of the walls and the asphalt of the streets. It was a new substance of reality from which the town was now built and myself in the middle of it, new, fresh, without weight and without organs, as a simple line of my own contour. 1 (Trans. Cezar Gheorghe)

The image of a new body, different from the one you were born with, one that transforms perception and disrupts significations is all too familiar in contemporary theoretical discourse. It is an accurate model for one of Deleuze and Guattari’s most widely used concepts the “body without organs”. They “stole” the concept from Antonin Artaud which was writing, producing plays and acting almost at the same time as Blecher – in the period between the two World Wars.

More importantly, for both of them, namely, Artaud and Max Blecher’s – the written experience is not a simple literary exercise. Both writers have been confronted with what might be called limit-experiences: madness in the case of Artaud and a terrible disease of the flesh and bones in the case of M.Blecher. In 1937, Artaud would be committed to an insane asylum which he would cease his public activity for seven years. Max Blecher’s faith would be crueller than that of the creator of the Theatre of Cruelty. In 1928, aged nineteen, he will be diagnosed with Pott’s disease, a condition that would keep him immobilised in bed until his death which would come in 1938, when he had not yet turned twenty-nine. For the last ten years of his life, Blecher was committed to hospitals that treated for tuberculosis. The proper treatment was not available at the time, as antibiotics were not yet invented. He would spend all these years in bed, wearing a corset which was designed to support his crumbling spine. The sensation described by Blecher was that of being enclosed (trapped without escape) in your own body. All of these biographical facts are relevant to the understanding of his writing. The terrible cruelty of his singular existence is in fact what makes his life and writings survive time as the model for a radical becoming (transformation) of the concept of existence itself – a life of immanence in which the Self (no longer bound by the straight-jacket of subjectivity and identity) answers to an absolute Outside that knows no selves, because Interior and Exterior are equally a part of the immanence in which they were created.

Throughout his life, Max Blecher published a volume of poems, Transparent body (1934) and two books of prose, Occurrence in the immediate unreality (1936), Scarred hearts (1937). His masterpiece, The Lit Up Burrow: Sanatorium Journal would be published after his death. Besides these four books, there are a few short stories that Blecher published in periodicals.

In spite of his condition and his life of constant pain, Blecher was very much in touch with the prominent writers of his time. On top of contributions to Romanian literary journals he was a contributor to André Breton’s Le Surréalisme au service de la révolution. Literary historians also claim that he carried out intense correspondence with André Breton, André Gide, Martin Heidegger, Ilarie Voronca, Geo Bogza, Mihail Sebastian, Sașa Pană, although no letters from the first three are known.


The field of expression


Despite his own literary influences of the time and his profound admiration of Surrealism, his writings produce a different type of interiority. The Lit Up Burrow begins with the phrase “Everything I write was once real life” (Blecher, Occurrence 11). The “real life” that he mentions is not the life of the mind or the life which escapes it. However, it is also not the representation of the previous two, but an expression in the sense given by Gilles Deleuze. The problem of expression in a Deleuzian theoretical framework concerns the interplay between internal thought and external bodies and how ideas can express the relation between inside and outside as an internalized trait of thought.

In Deleuze’s world, expression is very close to communication. In fact, he often assigns to the task of communication to expression. But what does it really mean to express something? First, it has to do with the power that is expressed by the act of understanding and not with the particular idea that is communicated: “The form of the idea is not sought in a psychological consciousness, but in a logical power that surpasses consciousness; the material of the idea is not sought in a representative content, but in an expressive content” (Deleuze, Spinoza 75).

In Deleuze’ s philosophy of expression “to have an adequate idea” does not mean to have an adequate correspondence between an object and the idea that represents it, but rather it refers to the power of that idea to capture the essence of something. Here, the essence involves the knowledge of the cause that it expresses: “Real knowledge is discovered to be a kind of expression: which is to say that the representative content of ideas is left behind for an immanent one, which is truly expressive” (Deleuze, Expressionism 134). Expression also concerns the concept of becoming, which is very important for Deleuze and Guattari. It is used in expressions such as “becoming-animal”, “becoming-woman” or “becoming-molecular”. This is understood not as a noun, but as a verb, as a process of modification. In this case, an expression is the pure event expressed by the verb and not a trait or a quality of things, thus beginning what Deleuze and Guattari call the “sense-event”. Although the sense-event is tied to language, one must not conclude that it is of a purely linguistic nature. Language is not the cause of the sense-event. There is no strict opposition. We do not have language and the event on one side, and the object and its qualities on the other. The “production” of sense depends on the structure of a linguistic society.

For Deleuze and Guattari such a society is composed of order-words that assign meaning to bodies, enabling them to be individuated in different social meanings. In A Thousand Plateaus, Deleuze and Guattari write that “there is no significance independent of dominant significations, nor is there Subjectification independent of an established order of subjection. Both depend on the nature and transmission of order-words in a given social field. (Deleuze, and Guattari 79). Therefore, society can be defined by order-words that define the intermingling of bodies, actions and passions. “Collective assemblages of enunciation” designate the relation between statements and the incorporeal transformations they express. This is the moment when language becomes truly expressive, when it is capable of applying determinations directly to bodies. The incorporeal is an extra-being dimension that cannot be accounted for from a state of things. It is a non-linguistic being that does not originate from the sense of language but from the immanence of the event. The expressive dimension of language is what one might call the expression of the sense immanent to the plane of bodies. Without this sense, language would not be real and would only remain a concept – being that is not yet expressed, in other words, that has not yet been actualised.


Expressing a different kind of interiority


Coming back to Blecher, one can say that, in his case, the field of expression designates a special type of “interiority” (a different concept of the Interior which is always bound to an absolute Outside). In his prose, there is no definite separation of the Inside and the Outside. There are no definite borders between the Interior and the Exterior. The body is constantly besieged by matter and by what he calls the “paste of reality”. The body does not have any stable lines or definite contours. He writes that “there is no difference between the exterior world and that of mental images” (Blecher, Vizuina 26). In other words, reality – whether it is the reality of the mind or the reality of the farthest exterior – is the folding of an absolute immanent Being. There is no transcendence because there is nothing hierarchical about existence. It lacks nothing as it is the smooth (lisse) distribution of Being.

In such a description of reality the lack of “stability” given by perception can lead to the dissolution of the attributes that make the representational model possible: sameness and identity. This crisis of identity is expressed in Blecher’s other masterpiece, Occurrence in the immediate unreality. The book starts with an image in which the narrator feels the presence of the other and the disappearance of the sense of self. In most cases, the sense of personal identity is regained:

The terrible question “Who exactly am I?” then dwells  in  me  like  an entirely new body, having grown in me with skin and organs that are wholly unfamiliar  to  me.  The  answer  to  it  is  demanded  by  a  deeper  and  more essential lucidity than that of the brain. All that is capable of stirring in my body writhes, struggles, and rebels more vigorously and more elementarily than in everyday life. Everything begs a solution. (Blecher, Occurence 26) 2

The lucidity which is deeper and more essential than that of the brain is of course the “lucidity” of the body, what in The Lit Up Burrow is called “the content of my person underneath the skin”. The same type of lucidity is rendered by what he calls “the cursed places”, described as veritable “condensations” of matter which escapes its shapes and passes through the body causing it to be dismembered and to be rearranged. The objects of the outside are stripped of their recognizable qualities. Their “exterior skin” is used up and they appear as if they were bleeding. In the middle of this world, described as a continuous flow with ever-changeable lines and contours stands the Body, the only one capable of being visceral and “cerebral” at the same time. It is the manner in which Artaud sometimes described his Theatre of Cruelty, a performance which is visceral while remaining cerebral, releasing the body from the hegemony of signs.

By “writing” the body there is the possibility to abandon representational thinking, one of the oldest traits of Western metaphysics. Historically, Western metaphysics was based on the concept of identity of the thinking subject and of the concepts it creates, to which it assigns attributes of sameness and constancy. The subject, its concepts and the objects in the world (to which the concepts are applied) have a shared internal essence: The self-resemblance at the basis of identity. But as Deleuze writes in Difference and repetition, the primacy of identity defines the world of representation. He goes on to say that modern thought is born out of the failure of representation and the loss of identities. This situation changes when we introduce the body into this equation.

The body is that which resists the process of signification. The Body is no longer an obstacle, a barrier or a borderline that separates thought from itself. It is, on the contrary, that area of indiscernibility that thought must plunge into in order to reach the non-thought which is life. That does not mean that the body posses a consciousness capable of subjectification, but that it forces us to think what is concealed from thought: life.  In Max Blecher’s writings, the body is not something that has to be bypassed in order to access consciousness. In fact, consciousness is rendered through the “lens” of the body. It is a membrane which transforms interiority:

Every thought, every memory and every vision that I saw underneath the eyelids disappears, immersed the same warm darkness inside the skin that absorbs them without a trace. In this warm environment and in this nameless intimacy they lay perfectly bound together and can be confused with one another, every memory, every feeling, everything that we believed was important in our lives.3 (Trans. Cezar Gheorghe)

Interiority is no longer ordered and no longer bound by the Inside. It moves freely in an element of sensation which is neither outside, nor inside consciousness, but attached to it. Consciousness now synthesizes a multiplicity of raw sensual material. Sensation produces a direct response of the nervous system, a response that can’t be made visible in a representational model of thought.

What enables Blecher’s prose stand out is the fact that, while writing in a representational regime, he manifests a privileged interest in affect (the combination of sensation and feeling). In Occurrence in the immediate unreality he writes that whenever he tries to find a specific word or a specific configuration that can designate his state of crisis and, by crisis he means a loss of consciousness, he can find only images instead of words. Of course, the images that he is discussing are not mental ones, but images that escape an organic organisation in an internal narrative. The type of images he refers to about is opposed to language. There does not seem to be a direct relation between the qualities of the images and their intensity – whereby “intensity” designates the strength or duration of the image’s effect.

In Parables for the virtual, Brian Massumi argues that language is not simply in opposition to intensity, but on a parallel functional line. The event of image reception is multilayered. The level of intensity is not semantically ordered. There is a disconnection of the signifying order from intensity, a rupture between the form/ content level and the intensity/effect level. The two levels (intensity and content) are immediately embodied. Intensity is embodied in purely autonomic reactions that are most directly manifested in the skin – at the surface of the body and its interference with things. Intensity is opposed to the content of the image which is consciously positioned in narrative continuity. It is outside this continuity, disconnected from the sequencing of meaning, from narration. Intensity is narratively delocalised, spreading over the generalized body surface outside the function-meaning loops that travel between head and heart (Massumi 24-26).

The relation between the level of intensity and the content of the image is not one of correspondence or conformity but one of resonance and interference. Linguistic expression can amplify intensity or function as a membrane of resonance for intensity. The later is the case of Max Blecher’s writing.

Intensity is usually associated with non-linear processes: Resonance which temporarily suspends the linear progress of the narrative (present) from past to future. Intensity can only be qualified as an emotional state, a state of interference – as temporal and narrative static. It is a suspended state (the body at intensity zero), it is not passive because it is produces a movement of vibration and resonance. It is a rest: In excess to any narration or functional line.

Narrative doubles the flow of images at a different level. Approaches of the image only in relation to language are incomplete, because they operate only on a semantic/ semiotic level (linguistic, logical, narrative, ideological and symbolic). What is lost is the event of expression in favour of a structure. Literary studies and image studies can gain very much by integrating the dimension of intensity which is equated with what Brian Massumi calls the autonomy of affect.

Max Blecher’s literature can provide the model for a cultural-theoretical vocabulary specific to affect. His case is singular in Romanian literature, not only because he pays great attention to the body, but because he does so in a way that – while remaining very much embedded in conventional narrative discourse – succeeds in accessing levels of intensity and affect that can be deemed non-linear and indiscernible. The Lit Up Burrow (Vizuina Luminată) provides us with an image of the journey through the veins and arteries, through the caves and caverns of the flesh:

În clipa cînd scriu, pe mici canaluri obscure, în rîuleţe vii şerpuitoare, prin întunecate cavităţi săpate în carne, cu un mic gîlgîit ritmat de puls se revarsă în noaptea trupului, circulînd printre cărnuri, nervi şi oase sîngele meu. În întu­neric curge el ca o hartă cu mii de rîuleţe prin mii şi mii de ţevi, şi dacă îmi închipui că sînt destul de minuscul pentru a circula cu o plută pe una din aceste artere, vuietul lichidu­lui care mă duce repede îmi umple capul de un vîjîit imens în care se disting bătăile ample pe sub valuri ca ale unui gong, ale pulsului şi valurile se umflă şi duc bătaia sonoră mai departe în întuneric pe sub piele în timp ce valurile mă iau iute în întuneric şi într-un vuiet de neînchipuit mă aruncă în cascadele inimii, în pivniţele de muşchi şi fibre unde revărsarea sîngelui umple rezervoare imense pentru ca în clipa următoare barajele să fie ridicate şi o contracţie teribilă a cavernei, imensă şi puternică, înspăimîntătoare ca şi cum pereţii odăii mele într-o secundă s-ar strînge şi s-ar contracta pentru a da afară tot aerul din cameră, într-o strîngere care plesneşte lichidul roşu în faţă şi îi îndeasă, cu celulă peste celulă, are loc deodată expulziunea apelor şi gonirea lor, cu o forţă care bate în pereţii moi şi lucioşi ai întunecatelor canale cu lovituri de ample rîuri ce cad din înălţimi. În întuneric, îmi înfund braţul pînă la cot în rîul care mă duce şi apele lui sînt calde, aburinde şi straşnic de miro­sitoare. Îmi duc mîna căuş la gură şi sug lichidul cald şi gustul lui sărat îmi aminteşte gustul lacrimilor si pe acel al ocea­nului. E întuneric şi sînt închis în vuietul şi aburii propriului meu sînge. (68-69)

The uniqueness of this excerpt is not due to the writer’s taste for fantastic images. The journey within his own circulatory system provides the narrator with the opportunity of producing a discourse which, while remaining conventional in style, offers a very unconventional creation of one’s own corporality. The world created here seems to be a direct plunge into the realm of sensation, a real museum of lucid hallucination. In this world, the lines that draw our image of the body seem to be blurred. “The lit up burrow” that the title indicates to is the interior of the body but, as Nicolae Manolescu (56-59) argues, it provides us with a different kind of introspection than that of the psychological novel. We have to remember that, when Max Blecher was writing his prose, the “stream of consciousness” was becoming the literary mainstream, with writers like Virginia Woolf leading the literature of psychological depths.

In Blecher, the landscape is shifting. Being is no longer to be found in the soul, but in the flesh and blood “underneath the skin”. When observing the bodily-material level, the interior of the “burrow” with its veins, muscles, heart and nerves, there doesn’t seem to be any space left for the soul. It’s an image that contradicts the famous Cartesian image of the “ghost in the machine”. Inner life now seems to be the positioning in a place with different coordinates than those of the self which used to be typical of psychological narrative. The eye of the narrator does not simply look upon the world as an individual, but more as a sensual process, maintaining the simultaneous participation of the virtual (the immanent source of all reality) in the actual (the world that everyone experiences). This “process” is usually called affect and manifests itself as synaesthesia – a participation of the senses in each other. Its mode of functioning makes it possible for a living entity to transform the effects of one sensory mode into those of another. Brian Massumi argues that “affects are virtual synaesthetic perspectives anchored in the actual existing, particular things that embody them”. What he calls the “autonomy of the affect” is the participation of affect in the virtual. Affect is autonomous to the extent in which it escapes confinement, the confinement of psychological narrative in Blecher’s case. After drawing the lines of Blecher own literary project let us now comeback to the concept of the “body without organs”.


Deleuze and Guattari’s Body without Organs


The greatest realization of the Body without Organs has to be Deleuze and Guattari’s collaborative work A Thousand Plateaus (Mille Plateaux), the book being the most radical in providing experimental models of Being.

Le corps sans organes or CsO (Body without Organs BwO), as Deleuze and Guattari like to shorten the expression in their work, is designed to be a critical concept in their own social critique. For them, our very Existence was built by the habitual adaptation to a wide range of given rules, structures and boundaries. From the moment of our birth, we are confined to the circumstances we are born into. This leads to the construction of personality which foreign to us. We are categorized based on gender, name, place of birth, nationality etc. In order to function as a part of humanity we need to learn how to use language and how to behave in given social situations. We also need to learn how to behave in relation to exterior, often hierarchical structures.

Taking all this into account, the Body without Organs (BwO) is described as a “state” after or before existence. While existing, each of us is in the process of becoming a BwO. Deleuze and Guattari call on us to search for our bodies without organs (as every one of us has several). Existence is a state of always being in the process of attaining a BwO, but never reaching that limit. What we can do is allow intensities to pass through it in order for them to return us to life more violently.

“The Body” is defined by Deleuze and Guattari as a whole, consisting in several parts (organs) which depend on each other, while at the same time functioning individually for the benefit of the Whole (the Organism). The body as an organic organization of the Whole also includes our own individual biological body. We all function as an organ of the organized in a society described by power relations (in the family, at school, at our job, everywhere in an organized conventional semiotically ordered society). Deleuze and Guattari name three strata of the Body: “Let us consider the three great strata concerning us, in other words, the ones that most directly bind us: the organism, significance, and subjectification. The surface of the organism, the angle of significance, and interpretation, and the point of subjectification, or subjection” (Deleuze, and Guattari 159).

Given our own representational thinking, Deleuze and Guattari argue that we are forced to be organised, to articulate our body. Even more, they imply that representational thinking turns organic organisation into a moral imperative. We have to be signifier and signified, interpreter and interpreted, otherwise we are deemed depraved by the society we grew up in. We are forced to be a subject, to be stratified as a Whole (organism). To these strata of the Whole the Bwo opposes disarticulation (or n articulations) and nomadism as free movement. We have to cease to be an organism in order to fulfil our potential. Thus, we have to open the body to connections that presuppose “an entire assemblage, circuits, conjunctions, levels and thresholds, passages and distributions of intensity, and territories and deterritorializations” (Deleuze, and Guattari 2005:160). We have to dismantle the organism by dismantling the other two strata, significance and Subjectification. We have to free the conscious from the subject and Subjectification so that we can turn it into a means of exploration. The unconscious has to be also freed from significance and interpretation in order to turn it into a means of production that tears into the organism in an indirect way. Clearly, this is the vital point for the critique of psychoanalysis.

But in existence there is also a different level, a level which our own (representational based) consciousness has not yet reached, a level which is also the mystery of all poetry as radical creation. This level is obscure and formless. Our own consciousness has not reached it yet, but nevertheless is surrounded by it. From this level consciousness receives unorganized, non-narrative, nonlinear perceptions and sensations.

In the coordinates of organic organization (representational thought), society is seen as a hierarchical organism, where everybody is one part of an economic infrastructure, without any space for free will, variety or difference based identity. Our existence is thus a pure paradox: while we are created to reach the transcendent values of society, we are trapped in the organism which makes it impossible to fulfil this task. Thus we are exposed to infinite lack and need. What remains is for us to constantly desire. We seek food, water, air (biological needs) but also sex and love. Every feeling, every sensation, every thought is to be called “desire”. To revolutionise society and ourselves in the process we need to go from a vertical distribution of power to a horizontal one, from striated space to smooth space (lisse – strié). The concept of the rhizome is the exact opposite of the organic (organizational)- representational model of thought. It is positioned horizontally, it is a destratified BwO. We need to forget the three strata (organism, significance, Subjectification). We need to get forget everything we know –language, names, identities. We need to escape ourselves, to follow a line of flight (to flee our own subjectivity), but retain enough of the organism in order to be rearticulated, to be transformed. Because every deteritorialisation is followed by a reteritorialisation. The dismembering is followed by a reconstruction, a becoming. The price of all of this is creation itself – the “production” of the new.

The “place” where we can practice this continuous experimentation and nomadism is the plane of consistency. We can only reach this plane only after we forget our existence as human beings in a body (organism) which poses a language, an identity and self-resemblance. We need to get rid of our organs (our organic organization) so that we can “find” the fluid (immanent) chain of Being and desire.


Max Blecher’s Body without Organs


As Deleuze and Guattari refer to the whole of society and existence when they use their concept of the Body without organs, Max Blecher creates – through his literary prose – a BwO which is a testimony to the failure of the biological body as organism. In a sense, disease is in his case the dismantling of the organism, its failure and its flight to that moment after existence which is the moment of death (the body at zero intensity). We can acknowledge – throughout his prose – this forced “effort” to attain the non-organic.

The representational model fails because the biological conditions which support it are no longer satisfied. The dismembering of the biological body also means the dismembering of representational (organic) based perception and consciousness. Identity is always lost and regained in his “occurrences in the immediate unreality”. Consciousness is already in the body, at the level of the epidermis. There is a “consciousness” – made possible by the dismembering of the organism – which is that of the body to itself: the consciousness of skin touching skin or flesh touching flesh. Without the folding of skin on itself (outside folding) there would truly be no internal sense – no image of the body. There is no organisation (representation) without disorganisation (touch, sensation). Without this level of unorganized, non-narrative, nonlinear perceptions and sensations, there would be no real consciousness.

Moreover, consciousness belongs to those singular moments when the body touches itself. When this happens, the “I” vibrates, is disrupted and presents another “face” of itself to the world. On the surface of the skin there is also an ever-changeable fleeting “soul”. On this surface, like invisible tattoos, “memories” (as intensities) are inscribed and are accessed by the body directly, without the need of an internal narration. When this surface becomes an organ, the “soul” of the surface is lost. Representational consciousness comes into play. There is a map of sensation at the surface of the skin, which abandons narration in order to achieve the sensual. This map favors topology and not geometry, it neglects representation, it favors contingency and folds. The surface is a new kind of depth, not psychological depth, but the depth of sensations, the voyage within your own blood that Blecher describes.

On the surface of the skin there is no distinction of the body and the mind. The complexity of sensation is never attained by the body or by the mind. There are no pure states. Body and mind react to each other in a state of contingency, giving birth to those simplicities that we are used to name in terms of one and multiple, subject and object, interior and exterior. These types of entities are very rarely seen in nature. We only really experience mixtures; the pure body (the organic organization) is improbable. We only return to it by habit. Sensation leaves a “signature” on the body, an “image” that we have to attain by the constant play of Being as becoming, we must constantly try to attain our body without organs. The “I” is rarely revealed outside the chain of becoming. Biologically speaking, we change our cells, we “shed” our skin, and we are transformed at a molecular level. Operating on an intensive dimension of language, the true “story” that Max Blecher is telling is the story of becoming – the flight from organization which taps into the real “skin” of Being.



  1. See Blecher:

În zilele de după operaţie, când începui să ies din nou pe plajă cu trăsura, regăsii un oraş nou, absolut diferit de cel pe care-l cunoscusem, ca şi cum toamna ar fi săvârşit într-însul o schimbare totală şi asemănătoare celor pe care le sufăr animalele în anumite anotimpuri, făcându-le să-şi schimbe pielea. Şi oraşul îşi schimbase pielea, şi cerul, şi plaja. În totul zăcea acum o simplicitate elementară a obiectelor ca şi cum ar fi fost doar desenate şi aşezate  la locul lor, nici o vechime, nici o amintire nu intra în molozul zidurilor şi în asfaltul străzilor. Era o materie nouă a realităţii din care se clădise acum oraşul şi eu în mijlocul ei, inedit, proaspăt, fără greutate şi fără organe, ca o simplă linie a propriului meu contur. (Vizuina luminată 81)

  1. See Blecher:

Teribila întrebare “Cine anume sunt?” trăieşte atunci în mine ca un corp în întregime nou, crescut în mine cu o piele şi nişte organe ce-mi sunt complet necunoscute. Rezolvarea ei este cerută de o luciditate mai profundă şi mai esenţială decât a creierului. Tot ce e capabil să se agite în corpul meu, se agită, se zbate şi se revoltă mai puternic şi mai elementar decât în viaţa cotidiană. Totul imploră o soluţie. (Opere 43)

  1. See Blecher:

Toate gândurile, toate amintirile şi toate viziunile pe care le vedeam dincoace de pleoape, pier scufundate în acelaşi întuneric călduţ din interiorul pieliicare le absoarbe fără urmă. În temperatura aceasta călduţă şi în intimitatea aceasta fără nume zac perfectindiscernabile şi putându-se confunda una cu alta, toate amintirile, toate sentimentele, tot ce credem că a

fost vreodată important în viaţa noastră.  (Vizuina 56-57)


Works Cited


Blecher, Max. Opere complete. Bucureşti: Vinea-Aius, 1999. Print.

—. Occurrence in the immediate unreality. Plymouth: U of Plymouth P, 2009. Print.

, Max. Vizuina luminată. Bucureşti: Art, 2009. Print

Deleuze, Gilles. Spinoza: Practical Philosophy, San Francisco: City Lights, 1988. Print.

—. Expressionism in philosophy. New York: Zone, 1990. Print.

—, and Félix Guattari. A Thousand Plateaus: Capitalism and Schizophrenia II. Trans. Brian Massumi. Minneapolis: U of Minnesota P, 2005. Print.

Manolescu, Nicolae. Arca lui Noe. vol. III. Bucureşti: Minerva, 1983. Print.

Massumi, Brian. Parables for the Virtual: Movement, affect, sensation. Durham: Duke UP: 2002. Print.