When I close your book I can hear it breathing
For a second or two
And the feeling puts my life under a shadow for days
I have traveled... But truly, I never had any idea of trying to make use of these vague displacements. The true adventurer is the one who invents his adventures.,, I don't make up romantic images. I once wrote—the only adventure, the one which lasts, namely life, for heaven's sake, the secret inexpressible life, life at its simplest even, this burning life of a prisoner with his two eyes always ardently fixed on the blind. Have you noticed the phrase—I no longer know in which poem—"we will never escape the fate of being prisoners." It's things like that which people should find in what I've written and comment on. I know it's not easy and would take a lot of time. Have you also noticed that in speaking of a man, in trying to get inside the real drama, you would have to be able to say what goes on inside him at night, for instance, when with the lights out he's there alone between the sheets. That is to say—nothing, the greatest wordless despair, in that nothingness of life as soon as you sound it yourself without using witnesses.
from Letter to Jean Rousselot: Pierre Reverdy, 1951 (from Jubilat 3, translated by Peter Boyle)
Shadow of the human: photo by Thapthim, 2005
Who passed?: photo by Tom Raworth, 2009