It is not that I arrive. One never, in truth, arrives altogether, though some, a few, a small few, perceive their nearness as arrival (if only by act of sheer will), and this serves them as arrival enough, and they are able to finish what they began, in a sense, and then begin something new (which, of course, they will subsequently never finish, but rather only perceive it as having been finished, only convince themselves of having finished it).

It is not that I arrive. It is rather that I attain that speed, that rhythm, that depth at which arrival becomes a constructive possibility [Erstellungsmöglichkeit: a possibility of/for construction/constructing], a potentiality… and hence a great danger, a source of fear which I nonetheless decline to name, decline even to acknowledge as more or other than an unnamable motive to interrupt what I have begun before it has, in fact, begun to take form, before, that is, I can truly justify any attempt to see it through to that place just shy of completion, of arrival, at which point I would be obliged either to delude myself into believing that I had arrived (so that I could then move on or proceed from that point, as it were), or face the impossibility of arrival and languish forever in that eternal, implacable antechamber of arrival that is, for all intents, the status and nature of arrival itself… (III, 2a)

[GLOSS: Valaco’s consciousness: forged in “rupture… between territory of man and continuum of violence” (Virilio). Valaco’s is search for radical stasis, for dynamic of immobility that would resist both violent spatialization of time (Modernity) and harrowing aestheticization of politics (Fascism), i.e. would cordon off, isolate, immobilize, “fortify” the materiality of social space from and against radical immateriality of power in guise of energy (speed, light, but also: violence, destruction)