In the deep glens where
they lived all things were older than man and they hummed of mystery.
Once there were brook trout in the streams in the
mountains. You could see them standing in the amber current where the white
edges of their fins wimpled softly in the flow. They smelled of moss in your
hand. Polished and muscular and torsional. On their backs were vermiculate
patterns that were maps of the world in its becoming. Maps and mazes. Of a
thing which could not be put back. Not be made right again. In the deep glens
where they lived all things were older than man and they hummed of mystery.
(Cormac
McCarthy, The Road).
Exposition de TTrioreau, en collaboration discursive avec Gian Piero Frassinelli, avec la participation souterraine de Alexander Kaïdanovski et László Szabó et la présence fantomatique de Michael Asher, stanley brouwn & on kawara.
