Such A Caring For Death, An Awakening

I Am Like A Child Ready For The Apocalypse, I Am The Apocalypse Itself, That Is To Say, The Ultimate And First Event Of The End, The Unveiling And The Verdict.

During The Fifteen Or Twenty Years In Which I Tried - It Was Not Always Easy With Publishers, Newspapers, Etc. - To Forbid Photographs, It Was Not At All In Order To Mark A Sort Of Blank, Absence, Or Disappearance Of The Image; It Was Because The Code That Dominates At Once The Production Of These Images, The Framing They Are Made To Undergo, The Social Implications (showing The Writer's Head Framed In Front His Bookshelves, The Whole Scenario) Seemed To Me To Be, First Of All, Terribly Boring, But Also Contrary To What I Am Trying To Write And To Work On.

I Have Always Had School Sickness, As Others Have Seasickness. I Cried When It Was Time To Go Back To School Long After I Was Old Enough To Be Ashamed Of Such Behavior.

Beyond The Touchline There Is Nothing.

I Would Like To Write You So Simply, So Simply, So Simply. Without Having Anything Ever Catch The Eye, Excepting Yours Alone, ... So That Above All The Language Remains Self-evidently Secret, As If It Were Being Invented At Every Step, And As If It Were Burning Immediately