“Finite” is part of my mourning performances. They represent fragmented and recomposed experiences. The self-decomposition, the tortured body, sutures and fissures are put into question in order to provide a better understanding of the “not being.” In an attempt to get home I face decay and mold. I’m “in training” and I can only deliver a false experience, because I can’t be contemporaneous to my own death. I can only show lines and distances. Lines that need to be walked in order to exist, creating the relation between dust and space, the emptied double and the occupation of the space of the other. For three hours I wrote the word “morta” (dead) on my face until it turned completely black. An attempt to make sense of death, an attempted sense-making that doubtless fails. In the infinite time of dying, all possibility becomes impossible, and I am left passive and impotent.