The destiny of every walking man is to immerse himself in the panorama surrounding him, to the point of becoming one with it and, ultimately, to vanish”.

I tied the facts of my life so tightly to the spaces of the city, to the point that every corner of Paris reminds me of a conversation with a friend, an episode, a love.

The greatest pleasure does not consist in experiencing new things, but in savoring the infinite variation of what we already know.

I have long been seduced by the idea of losing myself, persuaded by the thought that there was something poetic in this dissipation. I thought that the destiny of every true flâneur was to immerse himself in the panorama surrounding him, to the point of becoming one with it and, ultimately, to vanish.

Paris is narcotic for a man alone, a never-ending labyrinth where the anxiety of freedom is relieved.

The flâneur is he who consecrates his own life to the instant, to ephemeral things.

The greatest pleasure does not consist in experiencing new things, but in savoring the infinite variation of what we already know

The flâneur wanders restless through the city like an untamed beast. He succumbs to the crowd like a wreck to the waves, letting himself be overcome by the liberating breath of anarchy. There is something voluptuous, almost orgiastic, in this dissolution.

The destiny of every walking man is to immerse himself in the panorama surrounding him, to the point of becoming one with it and, ultimately, to vanish".

Free and alone in the maze of the city, the flâneur craves a revelation that might change his life and destiny.