It Must Always Be Considered

It Is As If The Photograph Always Carries Its Referent With Itself, Both Affected By The Same Amorous Or Funereal Immobility, At The Very Heart Of The Moving World: They Are Glued Together, Limb By Limb, Like The Condemned Man And The Corpse In Certain Tortures; Or Even Like Those Pairs Of Fish (sharks, I Think, According To Michelet) Which Navigate In Convoy, As Though United By An Eternal Coitus.

I Think That Cars Today Are Almost The Exact Equivalent Of The Great Gothic Cathedrals: I Mean The Supreme Creation Of An Era, Conceived With Passion By Unknown Artists, And Consumed In Image If Not In Usage By A Whole Population Which Appropriates Them As A Purely Magical Object.

To Whom Could I Put This Question (with Any Hope Of An Answer)? Does Being Able To Live Without Someone You Loved Mean You Loved Her Less Than You Thought...?

What Love Lays Bare In Me Is Energy.

Henceforth I Would Have To Cosent To Combine Two Voices: The Voice Of Banality (to Say What Everyone Sees And Knows) And The Voice Of Singularity (to Replenish Such Banality With All The élan Of An Emotion Which Belonged Only To Myself).