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Abstract

When a child, certain skies sharpened my vision: all their characters were reflected in my face. The Phenomena were roused. —At present, the eternal inflection of moments and the infinity of mathematics drives me through this world where I meet with every civil honor, respected by strange children and prodigious affections. —I dream of a War of right and of might, of unlooked-for logic.

It is as simple as a musical phrase.

(War by Arthur Rimbaud)