“The cannibalism of capitalism unites us,” says Diana Taylor in her text. We understand. We are familiar with this kind of cannibalism; we’ve lived it; we’ve talked about it; we have been addicted and felt the push and pull of devouring, whatever: a person not a person.

In 1928, Andrade said yes to cannibalism, but not your cannibalism; not the European way of seeing cannibalism, from outside, from not really seeing/knowing what cannibalism is about.

Similarly, there is something subtle-not so subtle that Diana somehow manages to do. As she acknowledges herself as “part of the frenzy, pushed by desire – our desire to see and experience and make sense of this environment that looks so foreign and familiar at the same time,” she LETS GO. In the constant movement of walking, seeing, touching with reflections, she becomes permeable. A walking meditation in which thinking becomes a label, “thinking”, to move not so much forward, but back into a world of mystery, respect: ch’ulel.

Things are stripped from ch’ulel when we try to understand, grasp, desperately, in our own terms. Not allowing understanding to come to us, whenever, however that may happen.

Diana is not trying to understand because she is well aware of what she already understands, what we all understand (cannibalism of capitalism); she is letting go in order to come back and bring back what has been made trash por la necedad de aprehender, de entender.