The Blindness That Opens The

I Do Not Believe In Pure Idioms. I Think There Is Naturally A Desire, For Whoever Speaks Or Writes, To Sign In An Idiomatic, Irreplaceable Manner.

The Trace I Leave To Me Means At Once My Death, To Come Or Already Come, And The Hope That It Will Survive Me. It Is Not An Ambition Of Immortality; It Is Fundamental. I Leave Here A Bit Of Paper, I Leave, I Die; It Is Impossible To Exit This Structure; It Is The Unchanging Form Of My Life. Every Time I Let Something Go, I Live My Death In Writing.

I Never Give In To The Temptation To Be Difficult Just For The Sake Of Being Difficult. That Would Be Too Ridiculous.

Everything Is Arranged So That It Be This Way, This Is What Is Called Culture.

There Is A Future Which Is Predictable, Programmed, Scheduled, Foreseeable. But There Is A Future, L'avenir (to Come) Which Refers To Someone Who Comes Whose Arrival Is Totally Unexpected. For Me, That Is The Real Future. That Which Is Totally Unpredictable. The Other Who Comes Without My Being Able To Anticipate Their Arrival. So If There Is A Real Future, Beyond The Other Known Future, It Is L'avenir In That It Is The Coming Of The Other When I Am Completely Unable To Foresee Their Arrival.