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I told a lie the other day. I said that I'd caught a 'bunch' of trout. What I should have said is that I caught a little trout that I named Bunch. There, I?ve confessed and now I feel much better.

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Michel de Certeau

Along with the lazy man. . . the dying man is the immoral man: the former, a subject that does not work; the latter, an object that no longer even makes itself available to be worked on by others.

Available, Death, Former, Lazy Man, Men, Work
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Everyday life invents itself by poaching in countless ways on the property of others.

Everyday, Poaching, Way, Countless, Life

To walk is to lack a place. It is the indefinite process of being absent and in search of a proper.

Process, Walks, Absent, Proper, Lack

They become liberated spaces that can be occupied. A rich indetermination gives them, by means of a semantic rarefaction, the function of articulating a second, poetic geography on top of the geography of the literal, forbidden or permitted meaning. They insinuate other routes into the functionalist and historical order of movement. Walking follows them: 'I fill this great empty space with a beautiful name. '

Beautiful, Mean, Space, Top, Fill, Name

The walking of passers-by offers a series of turns and detours that can be compared to "turns of phrase" or "stylistic figures. " There is a rhetoric of walking. The art of "turning" phrases finds an equivalent in an art of composing a path.

Art, Journey, Hiking, Path, Phrases, Rhetoric

Places are fragmentary and inward-turning histories, pasts that others are not allowed to read, accumulated times that can be unfolded but like stories held in reserve, remaining in an enigmatic state, symbolizations encysted in the pain or pleasure of he body. 'I feel good here': the well-being under-expressed in the language it appears in like a fleeting glimmer is a spatial practice.

Pain, Past, Practice, Histories, Reserve
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