CENTRAL PARK

—

YAN

—

Let's go…

We walk along paths of faces,
bends in the paths,

A Face in the Park,
A Park of a Thousand Faces,

everyone in their place,

We let our dreams drift away
while peeling raves.

—

GASPARD

—

Welcome to the arena of the jesters,

where some crazy good musicians play "
" along the potholed roads, "
" along the slums.

—

Where ragged faces
are fraying,

where the cheeks sag,

while... suddenly appear

—

Drowned birds,
goats on springs,
dreams in the scenery…

—

An octopus on a unicycle,
with wings under its legs,

's mutant horses in pursuit of cars

along winding, steep paths.

—

A slug leaves a trail of slime behind it
,

a volcano spews lava,

a dragonfly is withering away…

and that's when it broke down.

—

A streetlight is fading.

—

Shh…

This is where we sleep.

Let yourself be swept away by *
* in the dark.

—

(Saïd's entry)

—

GASPARD

—

It's the bone zoo,

where everything is falling apart,

where fish are popping out of my brain
in a flurry.

—

Knot in a bandage, a
, or hair that sticks together.

—

YAN

—

Finding carnal pleasure
in the slums,

mingle with the crowd,

Wrapped up in frock coats,
it gives us goosebumps.

—

Cut through the wind,
plant the sword

where the bodies lie,

to blend into
clay masks,

always on high alert.

—

I work in the greenhouse and in the kiln,

I dream of Belle and the Deaf,

I don't care about the fairies of the day,

copula in the bestiary

amid the muffled cries
that we stifle,

fabrics that are burned

and marshmallows
that we eat.

—

GASPARD

—

Come on, come on!

Come and call out to the creatures at

from the "
" clown parade in black and white.

—

Hunchbacked babies,
goat horns,
chubby skeletons,

tired young bimbos,

Eclectic cliques
, and gossipmongers.

—

, beneath our bandages, we are naked.

We only like
raw meat.

—

Death is coming
, wearing a pointed hat,

shouting "
turlututu,"

and off goes "
" in a hearse

driven by a toad.

—

Ghosts on bicycles,

It’s carnival time
—faces are falling.

—

Octopus skeletons,
loose bodies,

hearts made of bricks,

narrow trails,

spaces that no one lives in.

—

-shaped niches that are home to octopuses,

scratched breasts,

women who have been slapped,

grieving butlers,

mammals burdened with vices.

—

Intertwined bodies,
knowing smiles,

roosters in the mazes,

potholes,
steep trails,

square clown faces
crammed into tiny boxes.

—

YAN

—

Triangular openings
at the end of the trails,

Bulging eyes
peer out from barricaded windows.

—

We’re already feeling dizzy
, at the bottom of the stairs.

—

All the sensuality in the world
, in striped pajamas.

—

GASPARD

—

Faces with scratches,

with his eyes downcast,

with his hands behind his head,

We can barely stand up.

—

The heart in the ear,
the lungs in the fingers.

—

Puzzle bodies,

knees in their faces.

—

Colorado potato beetles are everywhere.

Even in the womb,
we’re already shifting gears.

—

Giant fetuses
are jostling for position.

—

, we're buckling under the weight.

—

, curled up under the weight of the cages.

—

Beneath the weight of age,

You catch a glimpse of his head—
—in the bend.

—

We're sinking
on the shore.

—

Tangled in knots,
in Bibles,
in spirals,

paths of faces,
bends in the paths,

a face in the park,

a park with a thousand faces…

—

Trapped in our breakdowns,

we hold back our fits of laughter
and our floods of tears.

—

While the feathers burn,
while the quiet huts burn,

in a cascade,

A troupe of funny horses, the "
," gallop off in a stampede.

—

Trapped in our breakdowns,
each in their own little box,

We let our dreams drift away
while peeling raves.

—

We’re chasing our dreams
while peeling potatoes.

—

TABLE 6 — LARGE POSTERS

—

FOR TWO

—

Caught between two stools,

alongside funny
prehistoric fish,

hordes of aquatic mammoths,

's triple breasts and oversized ears.

—

A tangle of legs,

an amphora filled
with wilted flowers,

burned-out light bulbs,

more fetuses
and frozen embryos.

—

Egyptian frozen babies, arm-
,

a flurry of leg movements,
a flurry of arm movements,

elastic limb tubes,

, and generic cold flavors.

—

GASPARD

—

A deep, rumbling "bong"
sets the pace.

—

Slowly,
, everything is slipping away from us.

—

We polish the Plexiglas,

by all working to

from our ancestral memories.

—

Everyone
, child of a star.

The greatest secrets lie deep within us.

—

We change our socks every day
.

—

YAN

—

Slowly
s fading away.

—

We are healing the wounds
of our ancestors.

—

GASPARD

—

The Meaning of Life
: Going with the Flow.

—

We're making slow, uneven progress,

hesitant, with a pale look in his eyes (
).

—

We’re just scraping by,
, stunned but clear-headed,

obediently.

—

Upside down,

endlessly inscrutable
, and serene.

—

The meat in the airlock
in a vacuum-sealed bag.

—

RAP SECTION

—

We’ve gone through the Age of Fire,
the Ice Age,

arithmetic,
the genetics of races…

—

Still under the same sky,

major cataclysms,
the worst disasters.

—

Until we reach a dead end.

—

As the snow begins to melt,

It’s a celebration of dreams.

—

It’s a never-ending cycle—
—that we’re all caught up in.

—

We—
—are one body,

every member of which
has the right to strike.

—

With my feet in the ice,

from one place to another,
we glide,

with indifference.

—

We let ourselves drift
in the silence.

—

Humanity
no longer even knows
if it is cold.

—

, we broke the thermostat.

—

TABLE 8 — AGAINST PHOTOGRAPHY

—

(PART 1 — YANNICK)

—

To spin,
to capsize,
to twist…

(dive, slide, explode…)

—

I defy death;
I barely escape
my own body.

—

Give me the song "
" all to myself.

—

(PART 2 — GASPARD)

—

Crumple,
smooth out,
iron…

—

Dancing on the web,
floating in the blue sky.

—

To be what we move,

be orange and red.

—

Give me the song "
" all to myself.

—

I breathe,
I'm leaving,

I am nothing more than a spring
.

—

I defy death.

I can barely control my own body
.