From time to time, heavier than a meteorite at its journey’s end, a boxer’s glove falls. The crowd trampled these memories of kisses and embraces underfoot without paying them the deference they deserved. I alone avoided treading on them. Sometimes I even picked one up. It thanked me with a warm embrace. I felt it tremble in my trouser pocket. Its mistress must have trembled just like that in a fleeting moment of love. I walked on.

-Robert Desnos

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