The Ideal Of A Single Civilization For

Writers, You Know, Are The Beggars Of Western Society.

Images, Memories, Fragmentary Shapes And Forms All Those Sensations, Visions, Half-thoughts That Appear And Disappear In The Wink Of An Eye, As One Sets Forth To Meet.... The Path Also Disappears As I Think Of It, As I Say It.

It Is The Revolution, The Magical Word, The Word That Is Going To Change Everything, That Is Going To Bring Us Immense Delight And A Quick Death.

We Pursue Modernity In Her Incessant Metamorphoses Yet We Never Manage To Trap Her. She Always Escapes: Each Encounter Ends In Flight. We Embrace Her And She Disappears Immediately: It Was Just A Little Air. It Is The Instant, That Bird That Is Everywhere And Nowhere. We Want To Trap It Alive But It Flaps Its Wings And Vanishes In The Form Of A Handful Of Syllables. We Are Left Empty-handed. Then The Doors Of Perception Open Slightly And The Other Time Appears, The Real One We Were Searching For Without Knowing It: The Present, The Presence.

By Suppressing Differences And Peculiarities, By Eliminating Different Civilizations And Cultures, Progress Weakens Life And Favors Death