To The Lover The Loved One Always

Not To Find One's Way In A City May Well Be Uninteresting And Banal. It Requires Ignorance - Nothing More. But To Lose Oneself In A City - As One Loses Oneself In A Forest - That Calls For A Quite Different Schooling. Then, Signboard And Street Names, Passers-by, Roofs, Kiosks, Or Bars Must Speak To The Wanderer Like A Cracking Twig Under His Feet In The Forest.

The Present, Which, As A Model Of Messianic Time, Comprises The Entire History Of Mankind In An Enormous Abridgment, Coincides With The Stature Which The History Of Mankind Has In The Universe.

To The Lover The Loved One Always Appears As Solitary.

Boredom Is The Dream Bird That Hatches The Egg Of Experience. A Rustling In The Leaves Drives Him Away.

History Breaks Down Into Images, Not Into Stories.