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Emmanuelle Becker


The mirror of an Instant

Dissipate the day,
Show men images disconnected from appearance,
Quell the risk of diversion,
It is hard like stone,
Shapeless stone,
Stone of movement and sight,
The glow is such that all armors,
and masks are distorted.
What the hand itself took
Takes the hand’s shape
What was once understood no longer exists,
The bird was mistaken for a breeze,
Paradise was mistaken for truth,
Man was mistaken with his reality.

Paul Éluard (1895-1952)


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