Jean Frémon

music of coordinated gestures in the warm air of a late afternoon, barrages raised against the duration which is installed leading to the invisible cortege of boredom and of its games, floating in the space-between like the sheet of smoke in the middle of the room, gestures, music, stripping time each one preceded and followed by its announcement or its variation, marks with its ephemeral sign, drawing in the warm air, the duration which sprawls and does not end, has not ceased to lengthen what seeming finished, to bend like the projectile at the end of the course, asymptote of the end

or lost, reversed, impregnable flash, the eyes fixed and revulsed by the impossibility of fixing the tragedy of a gesture which would only be a momentary cry in the air it crosses, not leading to any ear, but a cry for its own sake, tearing time and the screen of its smoke which creates a halo round every attitude

and returning to sit in the same places, phantom of itself crossed by the air that here confines a too long position window and door closed

the returning eye in the emptiness

translated by Paul Buck,
from Curtains, originally from Discours de la fatigue (Fata Morgana, 1972)

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