By Mister from Paris Looking his grave in the cemetery du Montparnasse. Not easy. Desnos likes not ostentation. So I wander and Carroi divisions. Amazing how death is tidy, orderly in its surfaces, not its volume ... Thereupon, there is much to say between cenotaphs and grandiose shrine es hast thou seen between prostheses Remember a little too polished marble and gray granite that time pike. And then an encounter with a Tom Thumb. From s bones? No, just a few pebbles, flint embankments. I found the poet died in exile . Curiously, the cross lying on the slab to the voice of Montand and Legrand's music ... Do you remember? "Sleeping with it."
the large amount Desnos in heaven that does not exist ... Morbid association of ideas? I do not know, but it is there, there, in the fifteenth division, regimented all of eternity. This is the spring poets . 
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