I loved going to the word

 I loved going to the word, being out of my memory, without the carnal support. Following the exact sequence repeating itself. The mind always said. There is never two ways: simple repetition. Of the acts. Of thought. Of the objects that make up the decoration. The only ones present Its various consistencies, colors, variable reflections, its taste on the tongue. It comes from the known perceptual world. In which we are contained, embedded, imprisoned outside of temporality.