Just as in mouths alone you fail because mouth alone does not make a storm of words of love to the other who is oneself. With mouths alone they bite dust or earth, depending on. Served with dark love. Out of the magical world where babies are born from butterflies. Dry mouths, I suppose, because I only imagine, that they have certainties on their dry lips. I suppose. I always suppose that I imagine the certainty of the bodies that put us in doubt. Visual certainty of the body before the dubious fantasy that leaves us alone with our strange fantasies. Giants enlarged by the fabulous tales widely fabled.

Palimpseste sur painting. Mirror Sub-Irrealism. Random intratextuality.