Autogenesis 22

To those who betrayed me.

I am not misunderstood; I am simply not properly heard.

My intelligence exists through the resonance of what I fully feel within my soul. I do not connect things because they resemble one another, but because they resonate within me and with one another.

My reasoning is not made of words, but of coloured waves that my consciousness attempts to decipher, like musical notes. My intelligence is born before words. Yet it needs them to give form to what resonates within me.

The metronome of my thought remains outside ordinary time. I move neither faster nor more slowly: I simply beat to another measure. From this difference comes my isolation in a world where my voice does not always find its echo.

I have never abandoned my childlike soul discovering the world. This candour is not naivety: it is my natural disposition towards wonder, trust and happiness. My consciousness, open to others, also exposed me to their particular interests, which throughout my life nourished my wounds and, in response, my need to create in order to protect my happy nature.

And so I cry out. That cry built my art and, at the end of my life, my art has become a work.

This work also carries what I have sought all my life: an impossible love of which I have known only ordinary flashes.

Could this freedom of thought be precisely what the creative spirit is?

Throughout my existence, I come up against the rigidity of certain ways of thinking when they act in bad faith. They prefer what they already know to what they are actually given to understand.

Mathius TO’ERAU the suréviste