Dangers des courants (1938) by Yves Tanguy
Today I have nothing: no lineage, no magic, no honor, no grand schemes, no audience. Today I’m bolts in a tin bucket, rolling noisily in circles. Tip the bucket and watch me roll across the floor, flattening dust bunnies in my path, under the couch, to the wall, then silence. Stop imagining things. Let go and fo…