Raymond Queneau

Entropy The woodman weighs up the oaks; the calendar, the years; the pamphlet, hatreds; the boxer, his teeth; the locksmith, bolts; the sweet maker, fondant bonbons; the jeweller, chalcedonies; the tamer, the elephams; the coiffeur, combs; the hatter, turbans; the impresario, new prodigies; the ridingmaster, white stallions; the juggler, full spheres; the conjurer, empty spheres. … Continue reading “Raymond Queneau”

Entropy

The woodman weighs up the oaks; the calendar, the years; the pamphlet, hatreds; the boxer, his teeth; the locksmith, bolts; the sweet maker, fondant bonbons; the jeweller, chalcedonies; the tamer, the elephams; the coiffeur, combs; the hatter, turbans; the impresario, new prodigies; the ridingmaster, white stallions; the juggler, full spheres; the conjurer, empty spheres. The weight of things requires attention, though it may be we feel little anxiety at the supposed law of matter’s ruin, for in the end all things re-unite: the years in the rings ofthe oaks, the look of hatred in the teeth, the fondant bonbons in the cakeholes of keyholes, the precious stones in the finery of the elephants, the combs beneath wound cloths, the hoarse prodigies in galloping fame, and the spheres with the spheres in topological bouquets.

Now everything is clear.

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