Each in the cell of himself is almost convinced of his freedom.
The older lives like not to be stood in rows or at right angles.
Weep for the lives your wishes never led.
Into this neutral air Where blind skyscrapers use Their full height to proclaim The strength of Collective Man, Each language pours its vain Competitive excuse.
Of all possible subjects, travel is the most difficult for an artist, as it is the easiest for a journalist.
The stars are not wanted now, put out every one Pack up the moon & dismantle the sun.