Humankind Is Never What He

Poetry Is Not Truth, It Is The Resurrection Of Presences.

Cubism Had Been An Analysis Of The Object And An Attempt To Put It Before Us In Its Totality; Both As Analysis And As Synthesis, It Was A Criticism Of Appearance. Surrealism Transmuted The Object, And Suddenly A Canvas Became An Apparition: A New Figuration, A Real Transfiguration.

Today We All Speak, If Not The Same Tongue, The Same Universal Language. There Is No One Center, And Time Has Lost Its Former Coherence: East And West, Yesterday And Tomorrow Exist As A Confused Jumble In Each One Of Us. Different Times And Different Spaces Are Combined In A Here And Now That Is Everywhere At Once.

By Suppressing Differences And Peculiarities, By Eliminating Different Civilizations And Cultures, Progress Weakens Life And Favors Death

By Diminishing The Value Of Silence, Publicity Has Also Diminished That Of Language. The Two Are Inseparable: Knowing How To Speak Has Always Meant Knowing How To Keep Silent, Knowing That There Are Times When One Should Say Nothing.