Another day to touch up the Rimmel of everyday life, another day to perfect the varnish of good manners, to scrub tasks, wash homework, extend expectations.
We open our eyes by closing the curtains on our dreams, leaving our burning opiums to the sewers, by already forgetting those truths that had, during the night, no shame in bargaining their place in the sun with monsters more implacable than they are.
We savor the order of the good nourishing society, which protects us, extorts us certainly our marrow, but keeps us away from the barbarians.
Yet our skins are thin, our tumors incandescent. No wonder everyone in this city is in turmoil. There is little that separates us from violence and insanity. We all know it, we all keep silent. We pretend to.