TOPOGRAPHIES
Head to tail | Golden brain, your thought is always up
All the cartographies I draw up represent my body, a body; ultimately the same for everyone.
But "Everybody" obliterated other worlds - at least one.
In the other world - another world perhaps - a part of my conscience was whispering to me that I should incessantly search.
Scattered from the cellar to the attic were the scattered elements of a puppet theatre, a castelet, as it is called.
The inside of the sheath of a wooden puppet was sorely embroidered with the words :
"T'es ta queue". dAVID nOIR _ 1918
Bruised pages
Travelling lament of the child king
Bad if I don't talk. If I don't communicate. Guilty.
A strong need to write or think?
All that is needed is good weather.
That there are not too many horrors. Yes, but there are so many.
To improve. To make better.
What is it that distresses me?
A pretext for my texts. History is going down the drain.
Get a grip. Where does melancholy nest?
Sadness is on the rise. Where to?
