Description
BRETON (André). Signed autograph manuscript entitled "Vernissage". 3/4 p. in-folio on grey-blue paper. PROSE POEM INSPIRED BY AN ART EXHIBITION, AND FORMALLY APPROACHING AUTOMATIC WRITING. Dedicated to Paul Éluard, it remained unpublished during André Breton's lifetime, and was first published in 1988 in the Œuvres complètes in the Bibliothèque de la Pléiade. "L'odeur des fiancées falls on a forest sifted among the games of the follets and the juggling of the stars. At first, you don't notice, but then you do. Dazzling little vials supported by fruitful exchanges between trees, it's you who are all spring, all spring. Shucks. Listen to the word of the good shepherd who passes by holding bunches of wool and mattress carders in the twilight. I'm telling you, it's all the same. There are crazy outfits outside thatched cottages and marriage isn't always at the end, near the easy-to-understand stream. Indistinct hope, unforgivable little vapor, I always have it at the end of my cigarette of doubt. I didn't waste my time looking through the keyhole, on the train; I do believe I witnessed a rape illuminated by the little hand reaching for the alarm signal, the beast: there aren't any in the countryside!..."
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BRETON (André). Signed autograph manuscript entitled "Vernissage". 3/4 p. in-folio on grey-blue paper. PROSE POEM INSPIRED BY AN ART EXHIBITION, AND FORMALLY APPROACHING AUTOMATIC WRITING. Dedicated to Paul Éluard, it remained unpublished during André Breton's lifetime, and was first published in 1988 in the Œuvres complètes in the Bibliothèque de la Pléiade. "L'odeur des fiancées falls on a forest sifted among the games of the follets and the juggling of the stars. At first, you don't notice, but then you do. Dazzling little vials supported by fruitful exchanges between trees, it's you who are all spring, all spring. Shucks. Listen to the word of the good shepherd who passes by holding bunches of wool and mattress carders in the twilight. I'm telling you, it's all the same. There are crazy outfits outside thatched cottages and marriage isn't always at the end, near the easy-to-understand stream. Indistinct hope, unforgivable little vapor, I always have it at the end of my cigarette of doubt. I didn't waste my time looking through the keyhole, on the train; I do believe I witnessed a rape illuminated by the little hand reaching for the alarm signal, the beast: there aren't any in the countryside!..."
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