first touch, that desire for the space changes the space to a space for meeting, to a place for possible community, as illumination turned into significant points, now no longer assuming that what I see are words placed differently than others would place them, no longer that I wanted experience to lead wherever it would, would not be aside contemporaries of mine, would not have done the same if they could, possession of at least the link to use, to that which had been beside the others, mine would had done the same if it could, the notion is in no way idle, the absence of space looking before the space, the separation from terror, from the reach of knowledge where the trap instills what serves as cover, what is finally to be in the opposite direction from the possibility that presents a chill as if a contagion, to make a character, to make a character tremble in the far distance, the need to follow that movement, to resort to asceticism, that link that contests the grammar, that fuses despite the questions, such as why did we all agree to ruin ourselves, but not as splutter, feet on the floor, falling down into where, as much as what can continue, become a room above a room, a form of transgression, accessible through excess, not through want, the thirst of the writer addressed to the reader and whatever resembles them to become their double pulse travelling, that too ousted to be specific, to view the occasion, to want to be everything, afraid to be discovered, to be what will be served by producing not something that just happened as an experience, there to be no longer a limit to the experience, to let me replace the space, to test so far the version that one makes, too much fiction, too much poetry, despite all, the restrictions to be part of that decision, this for want of anything better to remind, to remember, to tie me to what makes me feel good, faith in the insistence, there is no other way to feel something is what we feel, something at the point of terror, a run of despair, to give me that head, that lead that leads without ever blocking itself, without leaving the decision to decide the decision, increases the agitation of our stance, our standing, our move towards a pretext where we take a stand, we take a stance that takes a stance, but it is a breaking apart which is like a ceiling that the floor cannot reach, to find the space as a speechless and inept concern, a laughable misery about cold concerns, coming from where we come, from the heave in the dark, the fire of the heart, where we'll go with whoever goes first, what goes on inside the space, a fear for myself, I have seen what you are, we know who we are, we know who we are with impotence, an anguish at the point of facing what I give myself to do, you have good enough reason to stand firm, it's a will to know and to be anguished, lasting, but if abandoned, are you more easily moved, are you burning inside, it's important to me in this incoherent sensation of characters, are you moved enough, are you burning inside, I no longer want to be moving off into the distance, off into the distance where all is more an object of ecstasy, is not an intimacy, does nothing remain, is nothing possible that is already alive and shrouded in this coming over us, coming over our enjoyment, to begin by placing oneself on a point where we see, we see what we saw, not only the one who spoke but the one who thought, waiting, where waiting is as if in this space, the demand, the challenge that I myself bring can find you, find your happiness where you will no longer be a question of banished cancellation, but of pain itself, the will that you be ready later, but will arise from the misdoubt, the bursting was the bursting that we had something once in this space, what are you saying yourself, before this space, prodding the floor and no irony invited, something coming up, do you dare, would you be angry at yourself for wanting to hide anything, is this the pain, is this any pain, is there a feeling of loss with respect to mention my existence, to point to a relation as understood as wishing itself to be other, all is necessary, read the chilling thought or only have it before my eyes.

Paul Buck