I
am
the
book
of
my
part If
you
want
to
know
what
to
do
to
perform
my
part
you
must
look
at
me. Like
the
contents
of
a
book
memorized
so
that
when
Fahrenheit
reaches
451°
and
the
book
is
destroyed,
the
contents
survive
in
the
body
of
memory,
the
person
who
remembers
it,
my
part
resides
here,
I
am
the
book. When
I
am
in
the
process
of
memorizing
when
I
am
impressing
my
mind
with
the
patterns
and
talk,
the
numbers
and
pauses,
the
lift
and
direction,
the
contents
both
understood
and
believed,
and
unconscious
but
felt,
all
that
is
allowed,
I
am
the
book
of
my
part.
I
am
remembering
not
just
the
way
I
will
walk
but
why
and
how
this
started
and
how
it
was
different
once.
I
am
remembering
the
large
parts:
the
speeches
following
words
of
those
long
dead
we
are
bringing
back
to
the
conversation,
and
the
small
things:
the
point
at
which
I
must
remember
to
undo
the
double
knot
in
my
shoe. I
remember
the
way
I
sat
in
Prague
at
the
Divadlo
Alfred
ve
Dvoře,
the
stage
for
new
theatre,
when
I
used
the
wireless
to
find
Lenny
Bruce
and
some
of
that
theatre
and
that
town
and
that
bench
is
carried
through
to
this
moment
and
every
moment
I
remember
those
words
of
Lenny
Bruce
because
that
bench
and
that
wireless
and
those
images
on
youTube
are
the
way
I
began
to
absorb
and
to
remember
and
to
memorize
and
all
of
that
is
now
part
of
the
fabric
and
the
texture
of
the
way
it
is
written
in
my
head.
This
is
why
every
moment
matters
because
they
are
all
written
together
with
different
weights
and
measures
but
all
present
and
transformed
in
the
way
I
incline
them.
And
everyone
I
touch
or
am
somehow
part
of
is
brought
through
with
the
rest
and
the
people
I
work
with
and
see
on
the
street
and
you
especially
you,
so
special
and
such
a
large
part
of
my
thinking.
You
who
are
absent
in
body
but
very
present
in
my
heart,
it
is
you
who
are
also
impressed
in
that
memory:
the
memory
of
my
part.
I
told
you
in
Chicago
that
I
had
to
remember
to
untie
the
double
knot
in
my
shoes
during
the
speech
that
you
would
give
but
would
for
now
be
hearing
from
the
audience
as
someone
else
takes
your
part,
the
part
that
you
taught
her
from
your
own
body
through
the
sweat
of
summer
and
the
baby
growing
inside
you,
you
would
be
sat
in
the
audience
and
I
would
use
you
as
the
way
to
remember—especially
as
you
wouldn’t
be
there
for
the
first
tour
of
performances—and
when
we
came
to
that
part
you
sat
in
the
audience
and
I
looked
at
you
and
you
looked
at
me
and
we
were
both
thinking
the
same
thing:
Untie
your
shoes.
And
from
that
moment
I
realized:
You
are
also
the
book
of
my
part.
=> info | Construct a last
Exhibition: The Last Performance [dot org] @ Haus Der Kulturen Der Welt