“But I’m trying to write to you with my whole body, loosing an arrow that will sink into the tender and neuralgic centre of the word. My
my secret body tells you: dinosaurs, ichthyosaurs, and plesiosaurs, meaning nothing but their sound, though this doesn’t dry them out like straw but moistens them instead. I paint the unattainable “forever.” Or “for never,” it amounts to the same. More than anything else, I paint painting. And more than anything else, I write you hard writing. I must deprive myself to reach the core and seed of life.”