In this lake of names. Who has contemplated the cracks of the water; water whose folds..... It becomes wrinkled tomorrow like dawn like a compressed sheet under the “closure” of the hollow of the hand. That closes "on" madness. He will not be able to forget his not always suicidal nature. Nothing is certain about the suicide of death. Not his shroud. Shroud where there is no salt drop. Yes suppuration of the solution. Memories are diluted through the pores of the skin in paralogical sequences with the appearance of real lived reality. In embankment it goes supposedly, logically, downwards. Corporal forest. Where sweet sleeping poppies will grow with their silky red silk dresses. Jungle scene of the mythical tragedy. Repeated from shore to shore, incessant boat whose oars take the place of the dark water. Without music incessant crossing without gravitational forces. In that river without end or beginning, Diana safe from the hidden evil gaze of life.

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