Marie's words to Jeanne have long since reached the sea and returned into the various atmospheres.
Art is dead, Long live Art!
Verbum mortuum est, dum vivat.
The great circulation of language continues. Below, a new reign falls upon the ground of all, and on those standing around; on the dog, too.
In 1808, Théâtre des Acteurs de Regard proposed that this monument should be inscribed with a poem beginning
'Passants, contemplez cette pyramide…'
'Passers by, contemplate this pyramid...'
A Person Looks At A Work Of Art/
someone looks at something...
...but it never eventuated.
A.B. is writing to chere Leontine : the fall of words align with the obelisk (atopped by the funerary vase intended to hold the bullet-pierced heart of Louis Desaix ...but it never eventuated) and with the rood tree, stripped and strung with the lines of the new langue : telegraph, telephone and electrification.