لكنني الآن في هذه الليلة ارى السماء خالية من كل شيء وشعرت براحة لأن السماء لا توحي لي بشيء ــ الحائط - Jean-Paul Sartre

Poetry creates the myth, the prose writer draws its portrait.

There exist concretely alarm clocks, signboards, tax forms, policemen, so many guard rails against anguish. But as soon as the enterprise is held at a distance from me, as soon as I am referred to myself because I must await myself in the future, then I discover myself suddenly as the one who gives its meaning to the alarm clock, the one who by a signboard forbids himself to walk on a flower bed or on the lawn, the one from whom the boss's order borrows its urgency, the one who decides the interest of the book which he is writing, the one who finally makes the values exist in order to determine his action by their demands. I emerge alone and in anguish confronting the unique and original project which constitutes my being; all the barriers, all the guard rails collapse, nihilated by the consciousness of my freedom.

I want no secrets or soul-states, nothing ineffable; I am neither
virgin nor priest enough to play with the inner life.