At the end of a long journey, I can still see that corridor, that moleskin, that warm shadow crossed by breezes pure as small children sent by the sea foam, I can still see the room where I came to break the bread of our desires with you, I can still see the pallor of your nakedness that merges in the morning with the disappearing stars. I know that I am going to close my eyes again and recover the conventional shapes and colors that let me approach you. When I open them, it will be to seek in a corner the corruptible sunshade with its pickaxe handle that makes me dread fair weather, sunshine, life, because I no longer love you in broad daylight, because I am sorry for the time when I went off to find you and for the time when I was blind and dumb in the face of the incomprehensible universe and the incoherent system of understanding you were proposing to me.