To whom shall I hire myself out?
What beast should I adore? What holy image attack? What hearts break? What lies uphold? In what blood tread?
Rather steer clear of the law. The hard life, simple brutishness, to lift with withered fist the coffin's lid, to sit, to suffocate. And thus no old age, no dangers.
A Season in Hell, Rimbaud
THE unassuming young Japanese carrying Rimbaud's memoirs in his pocketas police discovered laterwas elaborately polite as he debarked with two companions from Air France Flight No. 132 at Tel Aviv's Lod International Airport...