Lycia (pronounced: lickya) is a mythical holiday destination: you can wander across the field of an ancient acropolis, and sit on a sarchophagus. Down a steep track to a remote beach, you pass ancient strawberry trees and you are taken aback
by their color, their frank, almost barkless trunks and limbs, exposed just close below the track, above the sea, as if you have surprised a couple in a sexual situation - in fact it is quiet: the words trunk and limbs, unspoken, reverberate - in fact a kind of revival of this vocabulary occurs
recalling the internal vegetal life of the human being
The division of life into vegetal and relational, organic and animal, animal and human,
Giorgio Agamben tells us,
therefore passes first of all as a mobile border within living man,
and without this intimate caesura
the very division of what is human and what is not would probably not be possible
Now we're really on holiday, we think - it's been a long time. Most people in Spain never go on holiday, we learned. That may be changing. In Tanzania people do go on a kind of holiday sometimes if they can: they go home. That is the main kind of going away they do. For a student or another person dispersed around Tanzania .. home is the only place to go and, to some extent, the only place to want to go. You long to go there. You get on a long distance bus and the journey of homegoing begins for you
It is a commonplace that holiday (vacation) arises when a job becomes long, hard, oppressive beyond a point, as viewed by some worker and or employer: I need a holiday! you say, usually after committing some indiscretion..
What you need is a vacation, everybody agrees
Such moments pass - so many moments, in reality: undeclared occlusions, we think, false adumbrations - life goes on..
One of the first and most instructive observations to be made [about 'life'] [writes Giorgio Agamben], is that the concept never gets defined as such..
.. everything happens as if, in our culture, life were what cannot be defined, yet precisely for this reason, must be ceaselessly articulated and divided
The Open :
Where will I go? we think, for, for a person not wishing to go home, or who is unable, for one or another reason to go home, such a person finds substitutes: their longing for home is displaced onto another place or it is displaced onto something else, something different
Before you know it you are on a plane, smelling those high octane fuels and synthetic coverings, and in next to no time you are touching down, slightly nauseous from excitement and exhaustion, emerging hesitantly
There are still shepherds in the hills above Fethiye, including some people who, we can say are barely conversant with technological changes
One night as you are sitting outside a restaurant on a square almost deserted except by feral dogs, you see the mobile kebab shop arrive: the lighting is like Amarcorde and the scene as a whole is a bit like that
When we hover on the recording of the mobile kebab shop, that vehicle is speaking to us about displacement, and longing for home, among other things because the kebab shop on wheels takes the form of a little improvised mobile home, which takes the place of an originary home. In the absense [sic] of an originary home, a person has a mobile home or, failing that, a little mobile kebab shop. In the absence of a permanent kebab shop, a person converts a trailer into a small mobile kebab shop come home, and drives it around, pitching up on the edge of some..