. . . Be Absolute Moderne.

Your Memory And Your Senses Will Be Nourishment For Your Creativity.

I Am The Slave Of My Baptism. Parents, You Have Caused My Misfortune, And You Have Caused Your Own.

But The Problem Is To Make The Soul Into A Monster

True Alchemy Lies In This Formula: ‘your Memory And Your Senses Are But The Nourishment Of Your Creative Impulse’.

And From That Time On I Bathed In The Poem Of The Sea, Star-infused And Churned Into Milk, Devouring The Green Azures; Where, Entranced In Pallid Flotsam, A Dreaming Drowned Man Sometimes Goes Down.