Manifesto 40<\/p>\n
I tore the eye of my future from my subconscious to observe it with a smile. Nothing was premeditated; slowly, I opened the door to see through the smoke of the resurrected, immersed in the ashes of their rebirth. I watched the crows fly over the wheat fields, the wind carry away the mist from such a clear sky, the paths of the phoenix stream down in their sparkling golden-brown ashes. Nothing was ever premeditated. I watched the eye get lost in the relentless spiral to awaken my lethargy, bloodied by my past crucifixion. But the resurrection from the abyss allowed me to climb out of the pit of agony. In this infinite solitude, vertigo led me to the frantic nerves of my hand, ready to explore a new atmosphere. From the ashes from whence I came, from the storm I endured, I let myself float in the vibration of the pendulum that leaves my eyes fixed on the truth. In the twilight of my next flight, where the clock is running wild, I retrieved my stone and my rosary, ready to face the jungle and the seeping of a frantic movement.
\nI retraced my steps, I heard the beating melt away to reinvent the shreds and candles, breathing in the vapors of flowers scattered on my floor, ablaze with a primary red spewing forth the power of a dazzling light. I contemplated each petal, letting myself fall into this incandescent field where the scent of Armenia guides every eager eye. With the emanation of this clear river, this sea of labor is like the moon at dusk, the turntable is behind me, the black eye is in the pit, and with my livid hand I advance peacefully into the field of poppies. <\/p>\n