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La mort. Je r\u00e9p\u00e8te ce mot. J\u2019ai parfois senti son odeur sauvage comme celle qui s\u2019\u00e9chappe des triperies, j\u2019ai entendu le claquement de son vol qu\u2019on dit noir, j\u2019ai vu la mort de pr\u00e8s et je ne parviens pas \u00e0 en \u00eatre trop effray\u00e9. Elle me para\u00eet souvent n\u2019avoir qu\u2019une valeur d\u2019\u00e9change. Ces mots que j\u2019aime, la libert\u00e9 ou la mort, sonnent dans mes oreilles. Je la pr\u00e9f\u00e8re \u00e0 beaucoup de buts qu\u2019on m\u2019a propos\u00e9s en me disant qu\u2019ils \u00e9taient beaux. <\/strong> <\/div>\n <\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" La mort. Je r\u00e9p\u00e8te ce mot. J\u2019ai parfois senti son odeur sauvage comme celle qui s\u2019\u00e9chappe des triperies, j\u2019ai entendu le claquement de son vol qu\u2019on dit noir, j\u2019ai vu la mort de pr\u00e8s et je ne parviens pas \u00e0 en \u00eatre trop effray\u00e9. Elle me para\u00eet souvent n\u2019avoir qu\u2019une valeur d\u2019\u00e9change. … Continuer la lecture de « Philippe Soupault. »<\/span><\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":3,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[190],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-901","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-noir-hommage"],"post_mailing_queue_ids":[],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/juliettecharpentier.fr\/gertrudes\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/901","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/juliettecharpentier.fr\/gertrudes\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/juliettecharpentier.fr\/gertrudes\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/juliettecharpentier.fr\/gertrudes\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/3"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/juliettecharpentier.fr\/gertrudes\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=901"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/juliettecharpentier.fr\/gertrudes\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/901\/revisions"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/juliettecharpentier.fr\/gertrudes\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=901"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/juliettecharpentier.fr\/gertrudes\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=901"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/juliettecharpentier.fr\/gertrudes\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=901"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}
Si je pense \u00e0 elle sans d\u00e9go\u00fbt, ce n\u2019est pas parce que je crois \u00e0 un au-del\u00e0 quelconque, ce n\u2019est pas non plus parce que je m\u2019imagine qu\u2019il existe ce qu\u2019on nomme la post\u00e9rit\u00e9. Je songe banalement \u00e0 un grand sommeil, large comme une plage d\u2019oc\u00e9an.
<\/em><\/strong><\/span> <\/p>\n
Philippe Soupault, Histoire d\u2019un blanc, M\u00e9moires de l\u2019Oubli<\/em>. 1927<\/p>\n