G. Apollinaire – The Emigrant from Landor Road

Swell towards night O Sea The sharks’ eyes
Even till dawn have relished from afar
Days’ carcasses gnawed by stars
Amidst the noise of the waves and the last oaths

Gonfle-toi vers la nuit Ô Mer Les yeux des squales
Jusqu’à l’aube ont guetté de loin avidement
Des cadavres de jours rongés par les étoiles
Parmi le bruit des flots et les derniers serments

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T. Pynchon – V

Fausto’s kind are alone with the task of living in a universe of things which simply are,  and cloaking that innate mindlessness with comfortable and pious metaphor so that the “practical” half of humanity may continue in the Great Lie, confident that their machines, dwellings, streets and weather share the same human motives, personal traits and fits of contrariness as they.

 

 

 

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