:45:02
I took the measure of the unbearable vanity of the West,
:45:06
that has never ceased to privilege being over non-being,
what is spoken to what is left unsaid.
:45:09
I walked alongside the little stalls of clothing dealers.
:45:13
I heard in the distance Mr. Akao's voice reverberating
from the loudspeakers... a half tone higher.
:45:19
Then I went down into the basement where my friend
—the maniac—busies himself with his electronic graffiti.
:45:24
Finally his language touches me, because he talks to that part of us
which insists on drawing profiles on prison walls.
:45:31
A piece of chalk to follow the contours of what is not,
or is no longer, or is not yet;
:45:37
the handwriting each one of us will use to compose his own list of 'things
that quicken the heart,' to offer, or to erase.
:45:43
In that moment poetry will be made by everyone,
and there will be emus in the 'zone.'
:46:11
He writes me from Japan.
He writes me from Africa.
:46:14
He writes that he can now summon up the look on the face
of the market lady of Praia that had lasted only the length of a film frame.
:46:21
Will there be a last letter?