To Try To Write Love Is To

When We Look At A Photograph Of Ourselves Or Of Others, We Are Really Looking At The Return Of The Dead.

The Photograph Is An Extended, Loaded Evidence — As If It Caricatured Not The Figure Of What It Represents (quite The Converse) But Its Very Existence ... The Photograph Then Becomes A Bizarre (i)medium(i), A New Form Of Hallucination: False On The Level Of Perception, True On The Level Of Time: A Temporal Hallucination, So To Speak, A Modest (o)shared(i) Hallucination (on The One Hand 'it Is Not There,' On The Other 'but It Has Indeed Been'): A Mad Image, Chafed By Reality.

To Try To Write Love Is To Confront The Muck Of Language: That Region Of Hysteria Where Language Is Both Too Much And Too Little, Excessive And Impoverished.

Tout Ce Qui Est Anachronique Est Obsce' Ne. Everything Anachronistic Is Obscene.

I Encounter Millions Of Bodies In My Life; Of These Millions, I May Desire Some Hundreds; But Of These Hundreds, I Love Only One.