Clean dreams without danger. To orange trees To lemon trees. In the tangles of doubt. Crushed books. Hired in their push to virus. As the readings that could not be liars: since the book of truth. I apologize for my ignored mental weakness as naivety: the book and the lie were not compatible; error yes, perhaps, even fanaticism and ignorance. Belief in well-intentioned ears, rather listen. The own step truncated with trick. He threw your naked flesh desolate to the hard street where the hard thing is not the cement but the covered windows in front of people. As if the nocturnal falls of the damp steps of solitude did not exist beyond the edge of the sidewalks.

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