arts of the unreal,

 There are arts of the unreal, and of the great ones. I will not define my relationship with them here, for fear of infecting other subjects. Laboriously half-crazy, what relationship could I have with a power, a system of power, if I am neither its slave, nor its accomplice, nor its witness? My gaze is implacable, like that of a dead man. I do not laugh at the theater of others, I do not respond to any wink --- I am vaccinated, shielded against all the minor "associative traffic" in my own poster. We do not practice, as they say, the same type of escape from reality. Everything around me changes its value in relation to a very different function, which is the Imaginary. Cortázar could see in this INITIATIC IMAGINAL something like a justification of the ontological reality of his own glimpses of another reality. In this way he himself, as well as those other visionary authors he admired (Rimbaud, Nerval, Artaud...) did not live in a world of pure fantasy, as their contemporaries might have mistakenly believed. What actually happens is that these seers had privileged access to a blocked dimension of reality. It is an “external world”, which is not the physical world, a world that teaches us that we can leave the sensible space without leaving its limits, and that it is necessary to leave the homogeneous time of chronology to enter the qualitative time that is the history of the soul.