Life Consists Of Burning Up Questions.

The Theater, Which Is In No Thing, But Makes Use Of Everything - Gestures, Sounds, Words, Screams, Light, Darkness - Rediscovers Itself At Precisely The Point Where The Mind Requires A Language To Express Its Manifestations.... To Break Through Language In Order To Touch Life Is To Create Or Recreate The Theatre.

Not Once More Will/i Be Found With Beings/who Swallowed The Rail Of Life//and One Day I Found Myself With Beings/who Swallowed The Nail Of Life/-as Soon As I Lost My Matrix Mamma,//and The Being Twisted Under Him,/and God Poured Me Back To Her/(the Motherfucker).

I Myself Spent Nine Years In An Insane Asylum And I Never Had The Obsession Of Suicide, But I Know That Each Conversation With A Psychiatrist, Every Morning At The Time Of His Visit, Made Me Want To Hang Myself, Realizing That I Would Not Be Able To Cut His Throat.

I Do Not Work Within The Confines Of Any Realm. I Work In The Unique Moment Of Duration.

In Consciousness Dwells The Wondrous, With It Man Attains The Realm Beyond The Material, And The Peyote Tells Us, Where To Find It.