The words twist the digital sheets under their will. At the flash of an eye. Straight as a path to the meeting point with the speed of the hammer on the anvil or the wave on the sea. Fly to the seventh heaven among the being of the clouds lost among the Moons of dreams. ─They laugh from their warehouses. With a crooked arm With his right hand. They killed innocent lead birds. They make mistakes before the gates of life, raging lunatics of life, whose loose screws lay loose in the holes.
Write en miroir. Palimpseste sur painting. Mirror Sub-Irrealism. Random intratextuality.