They say that they have learned to rely only on their own strength. They say they know what it means to be all together. They say that those who claim a new language first learn violence. They say that those who want to change the world first take up guns. They say that they start from zero. They say that now a new world begins.

The Guerillas, as Monique Wittig says, are an epic poem. A collage of fragments from different texts and genres of speech, poetically linked, but also strategically arranged for the needs of war, of the guerrilla resistance they conduct against the old world. From Wittig's collage emerge all kinds of figures of this old world, all kinds of its foundational stones, but as they appear to us, paper shards assembled haphazardly, they resemble caricatures, with no heroic stature, transparent in their meaning like the joints of a collapsing world.

From Hegel to Snow White and Sleeping Beauty, and from there to the Iliad, the Chinese cosmogonic myths, and the resistance of the Viet Cong, the Guerrillas sweep everything in their path, nothing escapes their critical blade, nothing remains un sung. They fundamentally overthrow what defined them, and now they themselves decide what they will be and how they will exist.