Thank you, Sisyphus.
Frame from “Now, Build More”, Waave's video clip.
Stones are not deities. They are not there to be worshiped, fixed in time, unreachable. Stones are not a dead weight to be carried, nor a mountain that suffocates under its own weight. They are seeds. Each one of them. Pieces of a new game, a game without end.
Stop piling them up. Give up on building the highest mountain. Abandon the idea of reaching the summit, of looking from above, of conquering. This conquest, this victory, is an illusion that exhausts us, for it does not belong to us. Because after the summit, there is only the fall. And then, the cycle of the same construction, the same mistake begins anew.
Let the stones roll. Breaking them is the first step. The second is to scatter them. Let them spread out, occupy space in new forms. We do not need a new Babel, nor a wall. We need new plateaus, small elevations, new points of view.
Loose stones, light, forming small trails, not walls. A path that is not straight, but curves, bends, yields to the desire to adapt. The secret is not in accumulation, but in distribution. It is not in raising a single structure, but in spreading possibilities.
To build is a weary verb. Let us subvert and radicalize it. Instead of accumulating, let us dissipate. Instead of binding, let us liberate. Instead of solidifying, let us fluidify. For the construction sold to us is a prison. It controls, exhausts, extinguishes. There is no Eros in it, only repetition.
Eros is movement. It is flow, desire, life. Eros makes the stones small starting points. They are ladders, not barriers. They are paths, not fences. They are bridges leading to other bridges, not an end in themselves.
Thank you, Sisyphus.
For your determination. For your endurance. For showing us the insignificance of pushing the same stone, mountain after mountain, every day. You insisted on the value of struggle, of resilience—and these very values turn against us.
It is time to descend the mountain. Let the stone roll back. We have shattered it, Sisyphus. Shattered by the weight of our rebellion, it is no longer one. They are many. And with them, we will no longer build peaks. We will build new territories, constant ruptures, different ways of being and existing.
Destroy. Break. Disperse. And then, create anew. But not the same thing, never the same thing. Create something that is not a repetition but a variation. A new discourse, a new form, a new line of flight. And when finished, break again. For nothing should last forever.
We refuse your suffering, Sisyphus. We refuse the exhaustion it causes us, and we reject the senseless toil that has become a virtue. We no longer accept the absurd as our destiny.
