At The Word Witch, We Imagine The

Psychic Automatism In Its Pure State, By Which One Proposes To Express - Verbally, By Means Of The Written Word, Or In Any Other Manner - The Actual Functioning Of Thought. Dictated By The Thought, In The Absence Of Any Control Exercised By Reason, Exempt From Any Aesthetic Or Moral Concern.

Perhaps I Am Doomed To Retrace My Steps Under The Illusion That I Am Exploring, Doomed To Try And Learn What I Should Simply Recognize, Learning A Mere Fraction Of What I Have Forgotten.

All My Life, My Heart Has Yearned For A Thing I Cannot Name.

To See, To Hear, Means Nothing. To Recognize (or Not To Recognize) Means Everything.

I Maintain That Anyone Who Still Refuses To See, For Instance, A Horse Galloping On A Tomato, Must Be An Idiot. A Tomato Is Also A Child's Balloon - Surrealism, Again, Having Suppressed The Word "like."