Requiem for Knom May he rest in violence.

Here lies Knom, inverted monk, devotee of the algorithm, bastard child of hunger without object.

He was not born: he was downloaded. He was not raised: he was configured. He never loved: he scrolled.

His prayers were clicks, his psalms, notifications. He never knew embraces, but he knew midnight sales.

His temple was a toilet, his god, the black mirror, his communion, a combo with large fries, and his eucharist: an ice-cold Coca-Cola.

Each day was a sacrifice without altar, a routine of self-devouring. He did not think: he reacted. He did not feel: he consumed. He did not dream: he reproduced. He did not cry: he updated.

And when his body burst from excess and lack, there were no candles, no flowers, no song. Only a glitch, a final notification no one opened.

Here lies Knom, who longed to be full and only managed to empty himself.

May he rest in violence. Let the digital silence mourn him. Let the remnants of his browsing history be his grave. And may his soul, if any remains, stand in line for eternity… awaiting the next delivery.

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Video by Tessa Fansa

Excerpt from the performance at the InSitu Guanajuato 2025 International Performance Festival.