I continue the series of books with a long, almost endless sheet. This time I am not collecting fragments of family memory or recording daily decomposition. I am making a registry of those who make what is happening now possible.

Borges collected imaginary beings to show how easily language produces reality. Here I use the same form, but in reverse. What looks like a literary game — codes, functions, hierarchies, statuses — works as an ordinary operational tool. It’s just that these entities have specific names, offices, and a direct relationship to violence. They don’t hide. They are simply built so that responsibility always ends up somewhere else.

Black pages with embroidered structures that almost merge with the background until the light hits them at a certain angle. Translucent sheets layered over each other so the text appears and then disappears again. A yellow cover that quotes Borges, but inside there are no dragons or angels. Only mechanisms that allow war to continue while keeping hands clean. Those who make decisions, those who carry them out, and those who later explain why no one is to blame for anything.

The question is no longer whether these entities exist. The question is why we keep pretending they are somewhere far away, when every day proves the opposite.