More than its utilitarian and technocratic transparency, it is the opaque ambivalence of its oddities that makes the city livable.

Everyday life invents itself by poaching in countless ways on the property of others.

Along with the lazy man... the dying man is the immoral man: the former, a subject that does not work; the latter, an object that no longer even makes itself available to be worked on by others.

The created order is everywhere punched and torn open by ellipses, drifts, and leaks of meaning: it is a sieve-order.

It seems possible to give a preliminary definition of walking as a space of enunciation.

The panorama-city is a 'theoretical' (that is, visual) simulacrum, in short a picture, whose condition of possibility is an oblivion and a misunderstanding of practices.

One is a socialist because one used to be one, no longer going to demonstrations, attending meetings, sending in one's dues, in short, without paying.