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Jun 23Liked by Christopher Mooney

In the war of words (on television)(and on the internet), it's revolutionary isn't it, that a bookstore by its very presence still has some power in this world. Even on a little street in the middle of Paris, France.

The Red Wheel Barrow, named after a William Carlos Williams poem, embodies the poet's modernist jewel – a minimalist tribute to the endurance of an image wrought from a handful of words. So much depends on it. Economical and lucid, Williams (a New Jersey doctor), aimed to fix what ailed us with language. The Red Wheel Barrow is just that, a place where things can be fixed, healed and possibly transformed. But is that possible? We don't know just yet, do we? So much depends...

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So so much.

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That’s a real thing…the misquoting by left and right…of Foucault (he’s looking cool with his mates here), isn’t it? Whose dog is it in La Datcha?

Great read, man.

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Lacan’s dog, that I wrote about here (along with Marx’s, Freud’s, Haraway’s and Houellebecq’s—and mine of course —and Deleuze, Derrida and Foucault’s cats!) https://thehexagonstack.substack.com/p/doggone-it

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Jun 23Liked by Christopher Mooney

Chris, an A+ Sunday read

Looking forward to buying a book or two in Paris.

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