Seated/sitting down, stretched out, I will??/would like to speak a French you cannot understand, another, which lies?? outside banality, to cry that I see blue, brown, the date ignoring, the waddle of some woman far too strange.

Situations scrambled?/will intermingle a long while yet, as I have seen them laughing at us, at our poor research. Although I had the impression of missing a piece which could have been played so easily.

Now, this too present now, sees me at the same point, not knowing xx/where to place you(where you begin or end), too far from myself to be able to laugh with sufficient serenity or dignity.

Sheets of rain ……………………………. I would want that this was (of) me. I xxxxx want/would like this wish/want.

You eat blue grapes. Your shirt is blue. In front, the arms move periodically. In another place someone else moves in a similar way, posing the gestures for which you wait.

I concentrate on the scattered bits and pieces, the words I would have had to use, the other-than-words.

Anyway, where do we get if it’s only to bite every baited line?

I gather up the scattered pieces.

(Daniel Théberge · Nîmes · Oct 1979 – partially translated)

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