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Seeing beneath a sea, quietly; extremes of trash cans throwing away a universe, a frigid body of water – decaying, perhaps; we must be careful here, rather than decay: the pathway could redistribute a stubborn field, which should lead us no more; thick curves trace behind forgotten pedestrian: pedestrian, just extend between two different worlds from this angle; discrete, emerge – invent, maintain, contact in the language of talking birds; forbidden trajectories sing in intensities which vary according to time; graphic turns intersect to form a fertile pathway, opened up by deviations, defined by walking, stylized insofar as both displace a tremulous image: the photographed object, the analogy or architects, the drifting of reality: faceless verbal pedestrian manipulates panoptic shadows, inserts itself, encounters a peddler carrying two, two sails, a brick, a bicycle: relics, fragments, islands – these swelling lapses, linked, substitute structure, concrete, trees; they move, play, dance, transform, fleeting, dancing subway trains. It is true that forests cannot be captured, circumscribed; some parts of the city disappear, immobile dreams, pedestrian inventory: the dreamed place is absent, multiplies, makes itself immense, broken, tiny fabric placed under traffic, shuffling, rented, haunted, dreamed-of; entertain that absence, attracted by shadows, light without obscurities. One bear brutally steps along paths disposed of like worn, detached flies: constellations of emblems, they decorate footsteps, wearing away forbidden routes, withdrawn memory: infans: symbolic memory that eludes names, emptying phantoms that still move, concealed motion imposing, preceding, altering, detaching people from a void, a void that opens up within an annex of numbers. Urban witch, a woman marked by memory, by shadows, silences, cellars of reversal: deserted memory, dreams that invent debris, furnished framework. Punched and torn bushes open up into private neighborhoods, substitute for memory, anti-museum objects, hollow acts of walking in revolutions; slumber is only our wordless stories, striking the presences of absences, fragmented memories hidden in the panopticon, in the basement of a building, broken into pieces, silent, a fleeting glimmer, metaphor of the mother’s body, detachment from the mother’s body; departure; the game of a mirror, the passage of silent experience – to move toward – tramping pedestrian unfolding floods, dreamed architecture suddenly shaken.
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