Trio by Robert Pinget

Author:Robert Pinget [Pinget, Robert]
Language: eng
Format: epub, azw3
Published: 2015-11-03T16:00:00+00:00

To pulverize, that’s to reduce to dust.

Legend, something that has to be read.

Step by step, this redemption.

Yes but, well, me, those as deny it, I understand them.

The whole so allusive, alas, no other way.

Sweet April is on its way out, the harm has been done, the action is starting all over again.

No longer the same, easy to say, luckily there’s the dream, and your method, you know where you can put it …

Do you understand what you’re reading, no, go on, personally I’m quite willing to take up the thread again, just to pass the time, doesn’t it … and his greasy little hat on his crown, looking for, to haunt the cemeteries, clever, to check there that he’s really dead, next week, not to be able to hear, duty, duty, this alarming imposition, I agree with you that in one sense, until we have more information, taking the circumstances into account, let’s see, adjusted his little pince-nez at the end of its little ribbon, and that’s what after so many years of hard labor …

Sweet April, yeah.

Bad luck, yeah.

Dream, oh benediction, come.

The time when he suddenly appeared out of a pumpkin, we shall see, we shall hear, we shall, yeah, remake our phrases, the only way to liquidate them.

A grand phrase that would have to be relinquished so as to shine out beyond the frightful cemetery.

So Monsieur Théodore still aping, still applying himself to discover the reason, in all that crap, given that it was all chance, I don’t mind, even though not so very pure, why some passages were so obscure, he makes a discovery when he puts on his uncle’s pince-nez, but there, how to explain it, something kind of occulted by …

Traces of effacement.

Then, putting them on the wrong way around, something else occulted by …

Then just one eye for one lens and for the other, then the other eye for the other one, and for the first one, a staggering discovery, but how to explain it.

So perturbed that he puts himself not in Monsieur Alexandre’s eye, but in his ear.

This time the discovery is indescribable, which shows that his pitch was not that of the conservatoire.

He must have suffered from a buzzing noise in his ears, he said, but can you be satisfied by that sort of evasion.

He became so cheerful it was enough to break your heart, he came out of his room saying it must be occulting an era that’s just beginning, the snag of the ana-time in which I am still struggling.

Ah, these poets.

The blue mountain comes back and the smells of … ah, what was Monsieur Alexandre’s nose like, possibility of nasal expression, he was so sensitive, so close to nature, all the more so as it turns out that his lucubrations were only produced a few days before his death.

And to come back to those little hoodlums, how many times didn’t we catch them in the mornings, don’t cut me off, fiddling around with each other, you should have seen

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