A Civilization That Denies Death Ends By

Wisdom Lies Neither In Fixity Nor In Change, But In The Dialectic Between The Two.

I Thought That The World Was A Vast System Of Signs, A Conversation Between Giant Beings. My Actions, The Cricket's Saw, The Star's Blink, Were Nothing But Pauses And Syllables, Scattered Phrases From That Dialogue. What Word Could It Be, Of Which I Was Only A Syllable? Who Speaks The Word? To Whom Is It Spoken?

Loving Means Getting Rid Of Names.

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.

Beyond Myself, Somewhere, I Wait For My Arrival.