By Listening To Certain Words As A

All The Senses Awaken And Fall Into Harmony In Poetic Reverie. Poetic Reverie Listens To This Polyphony Of The Senses, And The Poetic Consciousness Must Record It.

A Pretext-not A Cause-is Sufficient For Us To Enter The "solitary Situation", The Situation Of The Dreaming Solitude. In This Solitude, Memories Arrange Themselves In Tableaux. Decor Takes Precedence Over Drama. Sad Memories Take On At Least The Peace Of Melancholy.

Here Is Menard's Own Intimate Forest: 'now I Am Traversed By Bridle Paths, Under The Seal Of Sun And Shade...i Live In Great Density...shelter Lures Me. I Slump Down Into The Thick Foliage...in The Forest, I Am My Entire Self. Everything Is Possible In My Heart Just As It Is In The Hiding Places In Ravines. Thickly Wooded Distance Separates Me From Moral Codes And Cities.

Through Imagination, Thanks To The Subtleties Of The Irreality Function, We Re-enter The World Of Confidence, The World Of The Confident Being, Which Is The Proper World For Reverie.

In Our Life As A Civilized Person In The Industrial Age, We Are Invaded By Objects; How Could An Object Have A "force" When It No Longer Has Individuality?