In Politics, As In Every Other Sphere

Memory Is Redundant: It Repeats Signs So That The City Can Begin To Exist.

Each New Clarice, Compact As A Living Body With Its Smells And Its Breath, Shows Off, Like A Gem, What Remains Of The Ancient Clarices, Fragmentary And Dead.

This Is What I Mean When I Say I Would Like To Swim Against The Stream Of Time: I Would Like To Erase The Consequences Of Certain Events And Restore An Initial Condition. But Every Moment Of My Life Brings With It An Accumulation Of New Facts, And Each Of These New Facts Bring With It Consequences; So The More I Seek To Return To The Zero Moment From Which I Set Out, The Further I Move Away From It. . . .

In General Confusion Youth Recognizes Itself And Rejoices.

The City Of Cats And The City Of Men Exist One Inside The Other, But They Are Not The Same City.