Start by undermining the basis of my nature. Get my morals down and wait for the ... cement to take ... the wide ass of the cows that stay here ...
Tentative d’évasion sociale | Ici il n’y a pas de place pour le blabla social. Même pas le bonjour du matin. Et c’est tant mieux.
The true individual venturing out of his isolation room, faints on contact with the air. He refuses to be legibly embodied in his words and deeds...
One morning, or rather one night, a new blog was born in my little family of sites, a messed-up blog, designed to collect spelling mistakes with a ladle.
Quand on est choqué par quoi que ce soit qui existe, c’est qu’on s’est fait sa petite idée du monde mais qu’on n’y connait rien au monde.
Violence et rudesse sont dans l’air. « Fond d’âme mental », texte poétique écrit le 1er novembre 2015, avant que la terreur advienne.
Artists, the real ones who would have something to say, hate the world and won't say anything to it, right? And it's much better that way, isn't it?
Ma grande faculté d’adaptation m’est une violence absolue. Je hais toute relation qui m’y contraint. Rare est celle qui se déroule comme je le souhaite.
A new free and raw blog, as a necessary refuge for the written word. A little secret but not stuttering and spontaneously readable for anyone who would like to come there.
Empirical excavations reveal the root system of David Noir Production. Between the tortuous roots and the brambles are articles.
Bathed by the La Pudeur Sea, the island of Corps culminates at the Mont des Origines where the La Toison lighthouse stands.
The underside of the island of Corps is covered with the relief of the Roche de Seau d'Eau Mis accessible from the Baie d'Aisance.
The cartographies I draw up represent my body, a body that is ultimately the same for everyone.