What if each day had a unique name. Everyday a new language, maybe that's how it should be, or imagined it should be.
To wake up with a new tongue, as if the day just got reinvented. The forever newly invented, the unsettled turning of days. Language invents the day that reinvents language. Yet, all words are old, and we, in time.
The utopia of everyday life, the utopia of our fantasies, the ideal we employ in faith.
1. The utopia of Communication, above all, for we must have confidence or faith in the ability of language to create understanding.
2. The utopia of Self comes next, or the play of Self, a belief in oneself, an identity who speaks.
3. The utopia of the Other, someone who accompanies the self, a partner, the fiction of an interlocutor.
4. The utopia of Society or Community, a fiction of resemblance above all, that serves as the space of intersection in the sea of infinity without ground, the crossroad of language where language could mean.
5. The utopia of Meaning then, of the sign and its dynamics, its capacity to produce meaning and sense, information, beyond or below Noise; a petite linearity of signifying chains in the midst of the ocean of simultaneous noise.
6. Finally, the utopia of System, within which objects circulate in a network of relationships, with its discourse laws following the order which we impose on them, a utopia of Law and Order.
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