Hours and dates advance, from night to morning to afternoon, Sunday, Monday, Tuesday, September to October, in an indecipherable flow. Calendar and clock keep the count for me: I believe I can see time and space move!
Activities unfold, my attention floats and holds, floats and holds as I answer a knock at the door, make tea, sort through mail, manage bank accounts, blow my nose, watch the drizzle fall on passers-by. These are the irrational facts of my experience.
In the newspaper this morning there is a photograph of the president and his men in shiny black shoes, blue ties, dark well-cut overcoats, among a gathering of notables in some provincial city yesterday. The headline says Sarkozy wants to mark his territory. What territory? Who?
Once a student asked a teacher, "What is the Body of space?"
The teacher replied, "Your old teacher is underneath your feet."