I don't write especially for others. "Han han han! "exclaims the heavyweight, the big lump with a brain volume the size of a sparrow's ball, "well then, why do you do it? "

I do it like shitting in a toilet bowl; so that my poo joins the other faeces in the unfathomable mire of the great collector. To keep it out of my face. This imbecility that consists in saying that we create for others should stop. I write so that my readers keep quiet. So that there is no debate. To silence the world around me. So that we pretend we've read nothing, seen nothing. So that we just feel and sense that something has passed. What a burden it is to have readers! What a burden now! Abandonment, lack; none of that exists here and psychoanalysis is mistaken and invents absence out of thin air. I lack nothing. I have everything in excess. And behind the computers, words take on the appearance of absolutes in which the slightest stupidity is divinised by asserting that it has no origin. What a beautiful anonymity not to face oneself! Of course, if you don't want to stigmatise anything, you don't stigmatise anything.