I Love You On The Surface Of

A Game: Say Something. Close Your Eyes And Say Something. Anything, A Number, A Name. Like This (she Closes Her Eyes): Two, Two What? Two Women. What Do They Look Like? Wearing Black. Where Are They? In A Park. . . . And Then, What Are They Doing? Try It, It's So Easy, Why Don't You Want To Play? You Know, That's How I Talk To Myself When I'm Alone, I Tell Myself All Kinds Of Stories. And Not Only Silly Stories: Actually, I Live This Way Altogether.

I Could Spend My Whole Life Prying Loose The Secrets Of The Insane. These People Are Honest To A Fault, And Their Naivety Has No Peer But My Own.

We All Love Conflagrations. When The Sky Changes Color, It Is A Dead Man's Passing.

When Will The Arbitrary Be Granted The Place It Deserves In The Formation Of Works And Ideas?

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."