We Are All Mediators, Translators.

I Would Like To Write You So Simply, So Simply, So Simply. Without Having Anything Ever Catch The Eye, Excepting Yours Alone, ... So That Above All The Language Remains Self-evidently Secret, As If It Were Being Invented At Every Step, And As If It Were Burning Immediately

Peace Is Only Possible When One Of The Warring Sides Takes The First Step, The Hazardous Initiative, The Risk Of Opening Up Dialogue, And Decides To Make The Gesture That Will Lead Not Only To An Armistice But To Peace.

The Blindness That Opens The Eye Is Not The One That Darkens Vision. Tears And Not Sight Are The Essence Of The Eye.

It Is To Have A Compulsive, Repetitive, And Nostalgic Desire For The Archive, An Irrepressible Desire To Return To The Origin, A Homesickness, A Nostalgia For The Return To The Most Archaic Place Of Absolute Commencement

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.