This is a world where inertia, exhaustion and the sense of running hard to stay in the same place mark everyday life. They are as much a mark of the present depression as environmental degredation. There is a terrible tiredness around, a sense of having no energy, or of energy departing. In fact one can only understand this experience, and the connections between psychical myths and fantasies and the course of capital, if one takes energy into account.
Teresa Brennan, Exhausting Modernity: Grounds for a New Economy (2002), 11-12
—“Mr. Kristof, I Presume?” —
O my cousin, my beloved,
Once I thought I did not love you.
When they came back saying they had left you dead,
I went up on the hill where my tomb will be.
I gathered stones, I buried my heart.
The odor of you that I smell between my breasts
Shoots fire into my bones
translated from the Taitok by Willard R. Trask, in Bending the Bow: an anthology of African Love Poetry ed. Frank Chipasula p.62