You Have To Know How To Disappear.

Every Photographed Object Is Merely The Trace Left Behind By The Disappearance Of All The Rest. It Is An Almost Perfect Crime, An Almost Total Resolution Of The World, Which Merely Leave The Illusion Of A Particular Object Shining Forth, The Image Of Which Then Becomes An Impenetrable Enigma.

The Marxist Critique Is Only A Critique Of Capital, A Critique Coming From The Heart Of The Middle And Petit Bourgeois Classes, For Which Marxism Has Served For A Century As A Latent Ideology.... The Marxist Seeks A Good Use Of Economy. Marxism Is Therefore Only A Limited Petit Bourgeois Critique, One More Step In The Banalization Of Life Toward The "good Use" Of The Social!

What I Am, I Don't Know. I Am The Simulacrum Of Myself.

There Is No Human Reason To Be Here, Except For The Sheer Ecstasy Of Being Crowded Together.

The Yuppies Are Not Defectors From Revolt, They Are A New Race, Assured, Amnestied, Exculpated, Moving With Ease In The World Of Performance, Mentally Indifferent To Any Objective Other Than That Of Change And Advertising.