Nobody can drink Evian water. Yet the bottle is no doubt full of water, and it is entirely Evian. Sadly, such as it remains intact, this unit of pure transparency only functions as evidence by cloaking experience. To be sure, I can very well enjoy the image, and remain nevertheless stupefied in the contemplation of the uninitiated commodity [marchandise inentamée], but I can’t drink without pulling water from the bottle. A fatal separation: the holy water is nothing but a little water, while the empty bottle amounts to nothing more than waste. Alas, Evian is not written on the water, whereas one cannot drink the plastic and label. In vain do the producers of citrus fruits, trying to suggest a qualitative surplus, package each of their oranges separately: they fail to put their logo in each of our mouthfuls. The simple opening of the package kills it: the material on the one hand, and the name on the other. I can only consume happily by imagining their connection, left to digest material amidst waste.
trans. Gil Morejón, December 2013