Detour of forms Think of… whatever you like for everything obtains importance from something that doesn’t exist yet that’s the way I see a landscape with long shades filling it with distances and hollows disappear before reappearing as hills Everything is frontwards outwards and I see bits of roads that have torn themselves loose to begin their wandering inside their own enigmatic meanderings But there is no audience just a house staring away with its black windows that reflect objects without front sides but I hear something I don’t understand an old man who’s blind crying I have seen it for nothing can be deciphered that close impatience is blooming like dots in the dark without the enigmas’ mobility