I enter the tunnel. The hum of the vehicles is deafening. I found the site dedicated to the water point and I hid myself to watch the first signs. The epiphany is pending.
His arrival takes place directly in front, where the wall surface is covered with white scales. This table is covered with a milky fluid writing. My soliloquy blossoms on the surface it fade almost immediately. He telegraphed me in cursive script outlined by the reflections of glowing taillights of passing cars, calling the glyphs on the scales. The swirling iridescence in fading gradually.
dictation signals the beginning of my writing neurochemical, direct transcription in my narrative center of gravity through the persistence of vision punched each other.
The story progresses on the horns. The thick exhaust give flesh to the words.
My negro white to me is an oracle monolith palimpsest Alabaster where born my codex.
Just before dawn, I go up on the motorway interchange to begin my walk to the Porte Maillot. In the distance, the Hotel Concorde La Fayette throne on the neighborhood. Antennas perched on its roof totem spurring the leaden sky.
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