MediumAn American seashore at dusk. The City, its lights far away, across a bay or an estuary. A motorcycle, a front end of an old red muscle car, with the lights on. A man half bowing, may be Lou Reed. A dancing nude woman, shining star of the night. An impious portrait, a prostitute maybe, but also a sacred one Then, the words. Auden’s. Abandon yourself to those words of enchantment and loss, you don’t need to think. It might be a XXth century image. By fact, as if in an ancient temple, something sacred is in front of you. Listen to the words. Don’t try to think rationally. This is not love, this is attraction and silence. Death is absconding inside the posture of the man.