“What is “Evidence” in this Word “Revolution”?”, critic text by Andrea Pagnes, 2011, eng

A jet glass sparkles,
Rippling like magma.
Sharp javelin gyroscopes,
Physically pulsing,
They shake my bones.
Flickering like onyx flames,
They rise straight into my brain.
Smothered underneath a light
Covered in a silent spasm,
Oscillating, spinning, shaking, revolving, rotating
My real life melts, grounding into the floor.
What does it mean to get out of myself?
What does it mean to communicate with the others?
To find a sense, to dimension and recognize, to reveal…
What does all this mean?
To communicate is an act that belongs to the body. Only.
It has nothing to do with information.
It is beyond any pre-ordered scheme.
It is rhythm, sound, breath extension. It is an emotional fact.
To turn out any emotional action, means to favour the deceit and declare the false.
Signs, said or written words, colours absorbed or repelled by the eye,
Everything must be enlaced with the body.
For the body there is no other way out:
When it yields to lie, it confesses.
Always.