You shall not eat of the fruit of the Tree of Death

You shall not eat of the fruit of the Tree of Death. Of that under which the tomb of the corpse was planted whose essence rises through the wide roots. Like against the sides of a void that leaves the absence of life in space. To his ecstatic modesty. Thick slow dress. The modesty of dry slime does not come. The calcareous dissolved shell spiral dries. Whose life was like that, like a massacre. As if you could escape from those storms of massacres. Whose temporality is broader than time itself.

Autobiographies. Write en miroir. Palimpseste sur painting. Mirror Sub-Irrealism. Random intratextuality.