Honey under your tongue and milk on your lips. Let me know what the name of your nation is -What is your name? In your eyes I recognize just the feeling of love.

The water run out of my hands and I can’t touch you.

I collected severals glasses for the celebration. Embrace me with the fabrics of your body.

-Please, one more time before you dissapear in other bodies. Tell me the name of your land. Because I lost the direction of the Tropics. The line that divide us is beautiful drawing between the master and me.

-Please, one more time before you dissapear in the jungle. À travers des heurts irrémissibles ouvre ton corps à mes doits désiderants. Give me the honey of your tongue.

(The book of quotes, J.C.)

The brain urges the fingers to take a selective distance to build the words that will meanBiotropics. The fingers slide down the keyboard in an attempt to erase the letters of this and touch the infrastructure of the technical support. Hardware and software. Softer in the desire for the fingers caress some deformed figures that we call reality. An essay on how to decolonize time, space and desire through a tropicalization from our imaginary.

The speeches of the postmodernity put in value a series of textualities, positions, policies of the making and corporate hybrid debtors of the instances set forth by
the Foucault’s biopower. At present we are still looking for a concept that defines us. Some proclaim the victory of the posttruth and the death of the Anthropocene. Despite this, we lean towards the notion of life understood from a fictional construction of the world more insurgent, extravagant and rebellious

If to βίος we add the idea of tropic, soon we observe the radically fictitious draft that the structures tied to the technologies possess ones self. An imaginary line separates the paradise – of artificial utopias that bathe the shore of our tropicalism- of the consensus stipulated between North, South, West and East. An idea of disruptive and fallacious paradise where the existence of our bodies subordinates itself to

the enunciating power of our vegetable, carnal and mineral organisms. Sometimes they are of nutritive and protein inclinations, others of orgasmic flowerings. While other dispositions are of a dematerialized subjectivity by the objects of our reason. All this without losing of sight of a gynoid machinery of ciborgesic beauty.

Our lives are an existence fraught with affections and effects, oddness and objects. The tropic is a paradise of bodies with minds desiring, with subjetive powers and of desmaterialization of the objects in other corporeal forms. “Comment être soi-même sans se fermer à l’autre et comment s’ouvrir à l’autre sans se perdre soi-même”? – Edouard Glissant asks us. The fiction story that maintains any speculation is open to a narrative of tropical bodies. And in them we can find a fertile way of gliding in slippery forms and cave bodies that host all the possibilities. That’s why, biotropics participates of a tropicalization personified in creative and unlike axes; in becoming out and inside of a “psico-cultural thickness”. This way we cross “walking towards the paintings” of the Aggtelek (Travel Notes Series) the paradise forcibly distopic of Sulaïman Majali (-did you tell them? [pause] –did i tell them what?–you told them this was fiction? Towards a possible manifesto). The apparent chant of a muezzin transformed into a Tarzan cry inTerrosist of Love improvises an emancipated narration of delirious scenery in the film and essayical productions of Keren Cytter. As Object, where dialogues and actions are juxtaposed in a questioning of one’s own fiction. And then, we settle in the mathematical paradigm of a divergent organic matter of Alex Francés (Sound on Vision) or in its sacral dematerializations of the body (Pliegues de manto I and II). A body that exceeds with exuberance its contours of desire, overflowing in the visual and tactile of the body of the other and ones own in the work Holding Rays by Julie Favreau.