I was delayed that afternoon because I had brushed the teeth of a pretty animal that I’m patiently taming. It’s a chameleon. This endearing animal smoked, as usual, some cigarettes, then I left.
I met her on the stairs. “I’m mauving,” she told me, while I myself crystal at full sky I at her look that river towards me.
Then it locks and, maîtresse! You pitcherpin so that at nice vase I sit down if the paths tombs.
The staircase, always the staircase that library, and the crowds down there more abyss than the sun only clocks.
Lets get back up! But in vain, memories become sardine! hardly, hardly a button doodledoos. Fall, fall down! And here the verdict: “The dancer will be executed the following morning while doing a dance step with her gems sacrificed to the heat of her body: The blood of the gems, soldiers!”
And what then, the mirror yet! Mistress you black square, and if the clouds all at once forgetmenot, they mills in the ever present eternity.
The Ideal Mistress by Robert Desnos. Translated by Johannes Beilharz
“Light is meaningful only in relation to darkness, and truth presupposes error. It is these mingled opposites which people our life, which make it pungent, intoxicating. We only exist in terms of this conflict, in the zone where black and white clash.”—
“The rims of his eyelids were burning. A blow received straightens a man up and makes the body move forward, to return that blow, or a punch-to jump, to get a hard-on, to dance: to be alive. But a blow received may also cause you to bend over, to shake, to fall down, to die. When we see life, we call it beautiful. When we see death, we call it ugly. But it is more beautiful still to see oneself living at great speed, right up to the moment of death. Detectives, poets, domestic servants and priests rely on abjection. From it, they draw their power. It circulates in their veins. It nourishes them.”—Jean Genet, Querelle