I can “surmount”, without liquidating: what I have affirmed a first time, I can once again affirm,  without repeating it, for then what I affirm is the affirmation, not its contingency: I affirm the first encounter in its difference, I desire its return, not its repetition.[1]

I abhor the thought of repeating myself, of going over things in the same way. I do not want to say the same thing twice, I do not want to experience the same thing twice, or experience the same thing in the same way. I need to keep moving —my body is not the same one minute ago—of thinking, of inventing problems and testing their realization. Movement requires many shifts and continual awareness of ‘sameness’ to prevent it becoming a kind of repetition in itself; movement as a pattern, movement as a determined rhythm. I champion improvised music that does not repeat itself, is open form, free plan. This movement is against any kind of premeditated organization. The movement occurs when a fragment of language presents its possibility for collapse, for a text with a disconnected attachment to its original meaning. Then movement occurs because ‘I affirm the first encounter in its difference’[2].