What Love Lays Bare In Me Is

Is The Scene Always Visual? It Can Be Aural, The Frame Can Be Linguistic: I Can Fall In Love With A Sentence Spoken To Me: And Not Only Because It Says Something Which Manages To Touch My Desire, But Because Of Its Syntactical Turn (framing), Which Will Inhabit Me Like A Memory.

Every Photograph Is A Certificate Of Presence.

Am I In Love? --yes, Since I Am Waiting. The Other One Never Waits. Sometimes I Want To Play The Part Of The One Who Doesn't Wait; I Try To Busy Myself Elsewhere, To Arrive Late; But I Always Lose At This Game. Whatever I Do, I Find Myself There, With Nothing To Do, Punctual, Even Ahead Of Time. The Lover's Fatal Identity Is Precisely This: I Am The One Who Waits.

Fashion Postulates An Achrony, A Time Which Does Not Exist; Here The Past Is Shameful And The Present Is Constantly "eaten Up" By The Fashion Being Heralded.

Who Speaks Is Not Who Writes, And Who Writes Is Not Who Is.