A silent woman crouched on the roof of a high block of flats sways slightly and from time to time leans over the edge, with her head and look motionless, always tilted downwards. “Oh, come on, man, is she going to do it or not, we don’t have all day!” It seems we’re attending a scene of great expectations. A sense of unrest, unease, impatience and nervous tease hovers above the crowd. Police, security agents, doctors, reporters, negotiators, tourists, customers outside the cafés, passers-by. There are people gathered on a side street in the city centre. Bietul cititor râde până când buzele-i tac. Le pauvre lecteur rit jusqu’à ce que ses lèvres se taisent. Il povero lettore ride fino a quando le sue labbra tacciono. De arme lezer lacht tot zijn lippen zwijgen. El pobre lector se ríe hasta que se le callan los labios. Der arme Leser lacht, bis seine Lippen schweigen. The poor reader laughs until his lips fall silent. Bietul cititor zâmbește până îi amorțesc buzele. Il povero lettore ride fino a che le sue labbra non diventano mute. De arme lezer lacht tot zijn lippen gevoelloos worden. El pobre lector sonríe hasta que se le entumecen los labios. Der arme Leser lächelt, bis seine Lippen taub werden. Poor reader smiles before his lips go numb. It has been 200000000 (two hundred million years) and the reader has finally gone through all the 1000 000 000 000 000 (one hundred thousand billions) poems by Raymond Queneau. This is exactly why there is a someone for everything and something for everyone in this world of connections and misconnections. This misconnection amounts to the degree of arbitrariness which any forced connection bears to it.Īt the same time, no matter how arbitrary, a connection, once created, cannot be undone. When we compell our brain to establish a connection on command, then it is not a connection, but a misconnection being formed.
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