I Insist On Knowing The Names, On

I Believe In The Future Resolution Of These Two States, Dream And Reality, Which Are Seemingly So Contradictory, Into A Kind Of Absolute Reality, A Surreality, If One May So Speak.

What One Hides Is Worth Neither More Nor Less Than What One Finds. And What One Hides From Oneself Is Worth Neither More Nor Less Than What One Allows Others To Find.

The Clouds Were Disappearing Rapidly, Leaving The Stars To Die. The Night Dried Up.

The Important Thing Is That Man Is Lost In Time, In The Moment That Immediately Precedes Him - Which Only Attests, By Reflection, To The Fact That He Is Lost In The Moment That Follows

What’s The Good Of These Great Fragile Fits Of Enthusiasm, These Jaded Jumps Of Joys? We Know Nothing Anymore, But The Dead Stars; We Gaze At Their Faces; And We Gasp With Pleasure. Our Mouths Are Dry As The Lost Beaches, And Our Eyes Turn Aimlessly And Without Hope. Now All That Remain Are These Cafés Where We Meet To Drink These Cool Drinks, These Diluted Spirits, And The Tables Are Stickier Than The Pavements Where Our Shadows Of The Day Before Have Fallen.