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 ...
Attempted social escape | There's no room for social chit-chat here. Not even a morning greeting. And that's just as well.
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...
When you're shocked by anything that exists, it's because you've formed your own idea of the world but don't know anything about it.
Violence and harshness are in the air. "Fond d'âme mental", a poetic text written on 1 November 2015, before the terror happened.
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?
My great adaptability is an absolute violence to me. I hate any relationship that forces me into it. Rare is the one that goes the way I want it to.
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.