L. R. Flores

"The whistle of London Express blew, and I realized that he was going away from Paris – and from me forever – I suddenly changed my mind and resolved to take him away with me into the Great Beyond.

Do you want a sweet domestic life? Do you pick your avocados in an artisanal fashion? Is there a revolutionary subject in the 21st century? Does fake leather provide the same sensational thrill as real leather? Is theory a guide or a deterrent for action? Is the past charged with the here-and-now, always demanding redemption, or is it a ball and chain on a sinking ship in a wine-dark sea?


When we travel through BXL by train, we are greeted by a holy trinity of stations. From the disorienting, premature signs of ‘Midi’ with its lovely sleek platforms we glide into that claustrophobic Doric temple of ‘Central’ and note its stately clocks before emerging out into the dim light of ‘Nord’, where the sun is always setting and one can find half-empty Fanta cans meticulously balanced on concrete ledges.

"Tout le bizarre de l'homme, et ce qu'il y a en lui de vagabond, et d'égaré, sans doute pourrait-il tenir dans ces deux syllabes: jardin [...] Une image des loisirs se couche dans les gazons, au pied des arbres. On dirait que l’homme s’y retrouve son mirage de jets d’eau et de petits graviers dans le paradis légendaire qu’il n’a point oublié entièrement. [...] Les jardins, ce soir, dressent leurs grandes plantes brunes qui semblent au sein des villes des campements de nomades. [...] Ils reflètent fidèlement les vastes contrées sentimentales où se meuvent les rêves sauvages des citadins."