A small room inside a bay window. A single bed, a table and chair, and a sink. I could manage something larger, with more conveniences, but I could never match the view.

I awoke this morning with a small hut atop my chest -- the book I fell asleep reading.

I turn it over, curious to see where I left off.

"Sentence, Image, History" from the English translation of Jacques Rancière's  The Future of the Image (2007).

Here is the first half of the first paragraph that appears under the banner THE SENTENCE-IMAGE AND THE GREAT PARATAXIS:

"Let us call this the great parataxis. In Flaubert's time, it could take the form of the collapse of all the systems of rationales for emotions and actions in favour of the vagaries of indifferent intermixture of atoms. A little dust shining in the sun, a drop of melted snow falling from the moiré silk of a parasol, a blade of foliage on the muzzle of a donkey -- these are the tropes of matter that invent love by ranking its rationale with the great absence of any rationale for things. In Zola's time, it was piles of vegetables, charcuterie, fish and cheeses in Le Ventre de Paris, or the cascades of white cloth set ablaze by the fire of the consummation in Au Bonheur des dames. In the time of Apollinaire or Blaise Cendrars, or Boccioni, Schwitters or Varese, it is a world where all the histories have dissolved into sentences, which have themselves dissolved into words, exchangeable with the lines, strokes or 'dynamisms' that any pictorial subject has dissolved into; or with the sound intensities in which the notes of a melody merge with ship horns, car noise and the rattle of machine-guns.