Stillness ! It is certain that on my side, as in dreams, lying in a rocking stroll under the sleep inducing wheels, the interjection of flowers, every woman, and I know someone who sees it clearly, frees me from the effort of uttering a word: the high compliment of examining each costume almost offers itself to the man in whose favor the afternoon ends, who is unable to resist each chance meeting, and this suggests the distant look on his features concludes with a dimple of a spiritual smile.  That’s nothing, agrees reality, because it had been relentlessly excluded from the rays that expired luxuriously on the shining surface of the landau, like an outcry, amid tacit bliss too, for the dusk of a day in the suburbs, with a thunderstorm, perceived by all the senses at once and for no reason, of laughter (ordinary trident of things and of their triumphal copperwork) in fact, the cacophony that anyone can hear, drawn aside for a moment, rather than what it deserves, from its idea, remaining alive before the dread of existence.  “The festival of” I don’t know what suburban rendezvous!  named the child I transported in my distraction, the clear voice with no weariness: I obey and stop there.

Without recompense for this jolt which needed a plausible figurative explanation for my spirits, as symmetrically arranged by the lantern glass which little by little lit up garlands and attributes, I decided, having missed out on solitude, to sink into myself courageously in the express and hateful fury of all that I had but lately fled in gracious company: ready and not seeming surprised at this change in our program, of ingenuous arms which rest on mine, while we go walking, our eyes on the row, the path of bewilderment that forks in an echo of the same fair’s uproar and makes it possible for the crowd to contain the whole universe there for awhile.  Subsequently with the onslaught of mediocre licentiousness so as whatever it is that diverts our stagnation, amused by the twilight, at bottom, strange and purple, kept us equal with the naked incendiary, a human spectacle, poignant: denied by the daubed frame or the inscription in capitals on a shack, apparently empty.

To whoever unraveled this mattress to improvise here, like the veils in all eras and the temples, the mystery! belonged, its attendance during the fast, didn’t have, with the possessor excited before he unrolled the banner of hope in jubilation, the hallucination of a miracle to show (the futility of his starving nightmare) and yet moved by his brotherly character to make an exception to the daily misery of that field, when the mysterious word establishes the festival, contains the many shoes that trample there (because it peeps into the depths of a single hint of clothing to find one’s last cent, his sole purpose to spend it before leaving), him too!, except stripped of any notion that it was necessary to be one of the chosen ones, if not to sell, then to show, but what, had yielded to the call of a kindly meeting.  Or, quite prosaically, perhaps the rat, unless educated himself, the beggar counted on the athletic vigor of his muscles, to decide that popular enthusiasm was lacking at that very moment, as is often clear when a man notices the general circumstances.

“Beat the box!" proposed her highness Madame…only you know Who, marking an old fashioned drum which she lifted, her arms uncrossed to signify uselessly the approach of his act with no prestige, an old one of this friendship with an instrument of rumor and of appeal, possibly, attracted to his vacant design, as if it, of all that there had been here, was considered the most beautiful, the mystery, by a enclasped jewel the socialite sparkled, as did her throat, without responding! It rushed, silent clown, to my surprise, to a public halted, grasping the awakening of ruffle and trusted initially deafening the invariable and obscure for myself.  “Enter, everyone, it is only one penny, it will be returned to anyone who is not satisfied with the show. ”  The nimbus doormat in senile palms together thanks gutted I waved the colors as a signal from afar, and my hair, ready to split up the mass in the secret of what had been known to do with this place dreamless the initiative of a contemporary of our evenings.

At the knee, it emerged on a table, a hundred heads.

Clear in one stray shot on the other side it darted electrically, for me, following the fashion, this calculation bursts in the absence of all, a whim or a mood of the sky fully detailed its beauty, without supplement of dance or of song, for the mob paid the alms required, ordinarily favored, and in the same respect I understand my duty in the danger of subtle exhibition, to put aside the desertion in the curiosities and to resort to some absolute power, like Metaphor.  Quickly, to blather on until the explanation, on many faces, of their security which, seizing quite as a result, faces the evidence, even with difficulty, implied in the word and agree to exchange its balk against superior and exact assumptions, in short, the certainty for each one not to be redone. 

A glance at the last one, with hair that steams then enlightens the splendors of gardens the fading of the hat in crepe of the same tone as the statuary dress being raised, advances to the spectator, on a foot as the rest of the hydrangea.

Then:

The hair flight of a flame to the extreme

West desires to deploy all

This raises (I would die a diadem)

Towards the front crowned her former home

But without this or that deep sigh naked

The ignition of fire still inside

Originally it only continues

In the jewel in the eye and truthfully laughs 

A nudity heroes tend defames

The one that does not star lights moving finger

Nothing to simplify the woman with glory

Performs by his chief dazzling feat 

From rubies sow doubt that the scars

And a joyful and tutelary torch.

Assisting the living allegory by the waist, in order to hasten her touchdown nicely to earth, she had already abandoned her post, perhaps because my future lacked fluency,  “I will remark to you", added I, maintaining the same level with the understanding of the visitors, cutting short their amazement in front of this leave by affecting to return to the authenticity of the spectacle, "ladies and gentlemen, that the person who had the honor to subject herself to your judgment, does not require you  to communicate the direction of her charm, a costume or none of the usual accessories of the theatre. This naturally adapts to the perfect reference which the dress always provides as one of the paramount reasons for the woman, and is enough, as your sympathetic approval convinces me. ” A suspension of appreciative remarks followed, except for a confusing “Of course! ” or “It is that! ” and “Yes” from the throats as several responded with cheers and with pairs of generous hands, led to the exit over one clearing among the trees and into the night the crowd with whom we were going to mix, were it not for the recruit, waiting in white gloves, childishly murmuring of his dream of flexing them by their estimate of a haughty garter.

“Thank you,” the dear one agreed, a puff along with it like a constellation or drunken leaves as if to pierce the calmness otherwise; she had not doubted her success, or at least the ice-cold practice of her voice: I have in mind the remembrance of things that are never forgotten.

Oh! nothing but a commonplace aesthetic...

What wouldn't you perhaps have introduced, who knows? my friend, the pretext to express it in front of me with the related isolation for example of our landau - where is it – let’s return there: - but this spouts out, forced, under the brutal punch to the stomach caused by the impatience of people to whom no matter what and suddenly it is necessary to proclaim something, was this the daydream…

Who is unaware of and throws around stripped of fear, across the public; it is true. As you, Madame, would have heard it so irrefutably, in spite of the reduplication of a rhyme in the final line, my patter following a primitive form of the sonnet, I bet if each term had been echoed your way by various eardrums, and would have charmed a mind open to multiple understandings.

Maybe! We should have accepted our thought in the playfulness of the same breath of night.