A real sunset is imponderable and transitory. A dreamed sunset is fixed and eternal. Those who can write are those who know how to see their dreams with sharp clarity (and do so) and to see life as they see dreams, to see life immaterially, taking pictures of it with reverie’s camera, which is insensible to the rays of what’s heavy, useful and circumscribed, such things yielding nothing but a black blur on the photographic plate of the soul.
