by Tony Duvert
This translation copyright © by Grove Press, Inc.,
New York.
All Rights Reserved
Originally published in French as Paysage de Fantaisie, copyright © 1973 by Les Editions de Minuit, Paris.
No part of this book may be reproduced, for any reason, by any means, including any method of photographic reproduction, without the permission of the publisher.
ISBN: 0-394-49932-8
Grove Press ISBN: 0-8021-0100-3
Library of Congress Catalog Card Number: 75-13553
First Printing 1975
Manufactured in the United States of America Distributed by Random House, Inc., New York
GROVE PRESS, INC., 53 East 11th Street, New York, N.Y. 10003
Translator’s Note: I would like to thank the author, Tony Duvert, for his Job-like patience in dealing with my many queries concerning his text, and also for replying so lengthily to them.
S. F.
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I’m cold but I won’t let my teeth chatter that would make too pleasing joyful a sound my skin getting all goose flesh I’d feel all hot down there winter continues bowels dead fearful stare body so sick no voice at all only a gurgling this contracted flesh that says nothing
the bodies of others I loved them without understanding I’m dried up withered obscured petrified here where I hoped to make out something anything
jaws clamped tight one against the other tongue horny and shriveled all that drool would dissolve if that thing ever opened wide enough to laugh two three farts would come up through the windpipe to crack smack back against my palate I’d feel their passing less pleasantly than out through the asshole less smelly less alive but I don’t laugh I feel nothing my prick is rotting away my limbs all stiff
surely they’ll notice finally this lump of dried meat they’ll somehow fall in love with it carry it on manly shoulders they’ll have some special room to sit it down in perhaps a whorehouse straight on a straight-backed chair I preside I ornament I look quite handsome sitting there in some blackness his skin is yellowed violaceous greenish his cheeks eaten away his lips the brown of old dried leather I’ll experience sensations impressions of images of things potential bodies furtive laughter I can no longer find my eyes I open my eyelids eyes see take in nothing they’re dead or maybe it’s just that no one is here how this sick thing I am now was once so beautiful sparkling eyes and how soft so warm to touch closed eyes to kiss them I desired that once I was very tender
I kissed them upon their lashes thick lashes I’d like to construct a face around draw forth from the blackness a face I move clumsily within myself a deep well echoing no longer can I find the smooth rounded happy corners of wet memories they must be further down toward the ass my ass I can feel it a little now cheeks pressing down upon some velvet plush taut springs beneath so many precautions taken surely an ass must be a precious part of one’s body but too dark now no face to be made out here I search higher up there’s still nothing or rather the butt end of something a presence a round silence something distinct gay childish and all white I contain that within me it’s like a tiny ball for tossing bouncing high I can enjoy that I’m happy to have it inside me if only I knew what it’s called and what it’s used for
useless to try I don’t have the strength right now I can make out vague movements before me the others other bodies they’re all standing they aren’t afraid they’ll hurt their assholes while me I’m sitting down and scared
not identifiable not clear it’s my eyes at fault it’s too cold my eyelids throb but it’s a cold fever and my lips have moved at least I can see myself better now bits of torn skin frozen flesh snot dripping down my chin long hair curling down and around to my shoulders I must be a dog or maybe a girl no just long hair and I’ve got a prick it smells awful down there though don’t lean forward
room black straight-backed chair black it’s a whorehouse they found me on a street corner I was dying starving beaten I can’t make out anybody I know there’s somebody they must be black on black for I can only make out movements as the black slides shimmers shudders murmurs the room must be made out of black bodies all interlocking ceiling walls and door if only I could find a window somewhere
there isn’t any yet there has to be and open since I’m freezing I stand up shuffle a couple of steps along the sidewalk until I reach a portico and then lie down again some guy passes he’s wearing a hat a gray overcoat he stares at me a long time I open my eyes pop them wide at him open wide my mouth in a sickening grin to show him this dark hole without any teeth tongue bluish cracked black crevices for lips he is coming closer he smiles finds me handsome with my teeth so fine and white my curly locks so blond my beggar’s pose he would like to photograph me it’s some english guy sunglasses spruce hiking shorts he says Click? I shrug my shoulders he went click and disappeared I can move them all to pity me if I want they didn’t lay me down on a bed they leave me in a bare room on a straight-backed chair they explain nothing they should have told me what I am I would believe it anything I’d like to believe anything no matter what silence little round silence that rebounds within me too many images coming now with this supple white ball that fits so well in the palm of the hand I had hands once I played jerked off came
these running sores they bring me here lash me to a chair legs screwed into the floor wood soaked through drenched in blood my bleeding eyes bleeding over everything black abyss below my belly I can imagine invent a cock swollen like a tumor pointing straight upward they torture me I spit out a life my life word by word with its nights its sweet mornings I spoke then they tore me apart ripped me open and voices sprang forth
I can hear cascades of cries shrill hoarse hurtling headlong a nonhuman voice that emerges from a human body my clothes stick to the bloody slashes they’ve scalped me though they didn’t succeed in shutting my lids after my death my eyes gape two eggs sucked dry
I come to they drag me out from beneath a portico shut me up in a filthy room torture me there I enjoy that they call me sadist call me faggot that word faggot a thing in my life I have no idea what it means something to do with an asshole I think with that trick of theirs where I’m sitting down and the chair under me is oh what a strange idea
he unbuttoned the top button of his overcoat took out a wallet shiny I nodded my head yes his car parked nearby one time at his place he photographed me especially when I open my mouth and you can see that black hole then I left
I’ve crawled this far to find shelter from the cold I’m turning into ice how to find again words the same words I said earlier there was let’s see faggot silence round unknown a dark place I am alone won’t let my teeth chatter I’m hungry other winters passing mute dying I don’t remember anymore let’s see there was also an ass how that thing was beautiful and warm its softness to kiss an ass I wanted that I loved them all come closer all of you touch me I can’t make any of you out anymore
my heart pounding hard mechanical brutal sound emerging from between my lips my tongue is moving it comes out to lick the air is cold my bones creak crack whenever I move I pull my tongue back in clenching jaws look carefully cautiously down at my prick out of the corner of one eye something swings away from one cheek I shake my head it’s the cheek itself that is hanging loose I must have bled a great deal haven’t they finished yet with their razor
I walk a bit farther still reach a subway air vent stretch out over the grillework a warm current of air rising smelling of farts feet halitosis a pleasant-looking young fellow stops there alongside a tree takes out his cock he plays with it quietly not even noticing me it’s a robust young cock on a robust young boy how easily it wo
uld enter fill my cheeks but without causing any pain or strain it’s not that monstrous he has curly light hair that foreskin flaccid now and oh so roguish looking
I resembled reassembled myself from time to time that’s what makes me happy remembering my stomach hurts there is a fog a froth of a ball of old hairs and I don’t know what else swirling around down there
they open me up and bodies fly out of me they demand others and other images of other memories all the joys that my skin flesh has fed on
he rebuttons his trousers and leaves I didn’t see his sperm spurt fall I walk closer to the tree there’s nothing there I run my hand down there in the dirt not even one clot one globule of fuck for me going home he must have pinched from some garbage can an old black boot it’s to shove his cock into to help him sleep nights vagina-shaped hammering into it going wild shooting off into a woman’s shiny ankle boot
I decided to go out cruise the streets a bit I put on an overcoat donned a hat my kinky hair stuck out in all directions from beneath the brim making me look ridiculous I noticed a man even more ridiculous than I though curled up under a portico he was old smelled of piss but not of shit probably didn’t eat enough to shit or else it came out in little round pellets nanny-goat droppings there was nothing special about him except for one malicious eye that always remained shut from laughing too hard or else from the last dream of each night
there are things you don’t forget I always see the same thing a small window gaping open in the middle of a huge yellow wall there where a sheet hangs slackly whenever I dream that dream I wake up immediately I screamed with fear in the darkness my throat remains taut outside it’s night again my sheets kicked off rumpled at the foot of the bed emit a strong odor sourish smell of a child’s prick too often pumped mixed with a fresh breeze that evaporates everything yes even that rancid dew
a group of young boys the night the garden the wind shuddering the moon full with its malicious silent grin fat young cocks sturdy boys laughing as they come I can imagine invent such dreams my simple dreams passing out beyond this window that looks down upon shadows and the cold all four walls are covered with a rough black fabric hanging loose what light there is comes from a conch fixture in one corner of the ceiling but hardly enough to make out anything when you walk the floor springs up some of the rooms here are like that no furnishings whatever floors covered entirely with mattress ten or twenty guys can sprawl loll about upon them without banging asses or elbows together they’re like padded cells madmen they put me in here in a straight-backed chair that pitches back and forth upon this deck of love springs underneath and washable probably
you would sit upon a chair a straight-backed chair blacknesses surrounding and you would wait that’s their rule I’m waiting it’s a game the ball climbs higher in the air glows seems to center itself there above me assumes a shape forms itself into I am on the outside now all around I’m choking winter explodes I have a fever shut up pent in here there was a storm as on every other night and the garden below brown gray where shadows played there must have been at least ten of them I sat patiently on the straight-backed chair none of us of them anywhere
the summer unbearable when in knee pants dirty shorts I played against a wall of the sun-stained house a passer-by dressed all in gray tossed back my ball that had bounced too far he came closer closer shoved one hand between the cheeks into the fissure of my ass murmured how he loved young eyes my eyes I kept my mouth shut they had set me down there earlier they pose you purposely take you away again choose other spots and begin all over again I was bare-assed no longer played now looking out upon the garden and nobody had realized yet I had run away
he leans against a tree and plays with his prick my stare bothers him he shuts his prepuce by pulling it lengthwise then drawing it tight like some pouch by its string sperm fills the bag to bursting bathes the head with ooze hot and white and sticky some shit in the bottom of his pants crotch suddenly pasty doodoo dingleberries liquefying running down escaping he hunts for some string in his pockets to tie around the foreskin he saw or remembers earlier on the top of an open garbage can a pair of shiny boots coachman cavalryman he thinks of a long whip supple and flashing out like lightning grabs one of the boots and tucks it under his arm like a bouquet of flowers they are all withered stalks streaming stinking with ooze
someone passes by bends down I get it full in the kisser a fist red circles dancing I bounce back up toward it again he continues they used scissors and a riding crop I remembered that almost as soon as I regained consciousness and I discover something long and hard and oblong that hurts they sat me down on top of it they jammed it all the way up into my guts I could even taste it I can’t feel anything more I try to hide by curling up my legs against my chest knees burrowing into nipples
at the bottom of a huge yellow wall some little ant hills in the gray grass a lovely morning they managed to find me I moaned in order to please them more it was far out in the country the movement to and fro of a ball in the air isolated forms shapes boy tree house sun no notree it’s a street today
very soon I’ll be able to move one hand I’ll have nearly all of my body back be able to touch the rest I still don’t have be able to imagine whatever part moves teeth chattering clothes ripped off skin bristling goose flesh a draft of air that dries something soggy on my skin I do have skin still bits of fabric stuck to it I grab one it peels off I scream
I can hear my voice a gurgling it sounds too slow it’s not my voice although it doesn’t come from anyone else I contract my rib cage let the air pass out through channels canals of bone and tissue vibrating long obscure interminable echoes corridors I’ve found them again I heard a thousand voices all at once the distant thunder of laughter on my cheek there’s some
gauze an adhesive bandage dangling
they hid my wounds in order to show me off to those others men in black who filed past formed a circle looked me over curiously my lips open wide my eyes shut they forgot the chin bandage blood still pouring out from my mouth we all had thought me dead but they will be pulling me together soon after all it’s for their own good to dry me out
silence white childlike higher up intangible hazy it spreads throughout me little by little climbing up first from the ass the thighs invading me everywhere a long inhalation inflates my rubbery balls they smooth out losing their folds harden grow rounder rigid there’s blood returning they don’t explain anything to me they must wait we are waiting and I will see if three floodlights and me in the center a man shouts look at me I looked at him I had a candy in my hand I wanted to suck on it but I won’t be allowed to until after
I’m hungry they hit me across the face again and again to get me used to it then with the cutting edge of the hand and my skin opens up once more my body at each blow hardens and my screams more and more muffled
too tiring anyway to scream I irritate them I haven’t the strength to fight any longer so they decide to shove a beer bottle shaped like a rocket up my anus they are lifting me letting me drop again in order to break the bottle inside me my bowels pitch and toss oh my guts but I clench my asshole tight and the bottle bulging remains suspended doesn’t smash they never expected that and yet they wouldn’t dare burst me would they I saw sperm glisten in the darkness they stopped immediately and yanked the bottle out I was too tired by then there wasn’t anyone in the streets I went out on foot fainted finally
paralyzed with cold with darkness I wander they haven’t anything to fear the tallest dressed all in gray points to me and the others hurl themselves at me carrying me off I must have pleased them for they tied me up and left me to suffer for several days from blackness from hunger they could have if they wanted to gone all the way then and drained all my blood to see what would be left afterward on a row of straight-backed chairs I saw others naked bodies smudged in darkness like me but without any water fluid inside them
before always before those first days are the ones I would like to hear about another time here in t
he country I had forgotten I remained silent this country place a hand inside my cheeks parting them he lifted me up to sit astride his huge open palm turning me over then in his arms like a suckling sucking babe his nose rubbed up hard against my fly rummaging deep within the slit I wonder what he could be looking for
my hands how to keep them warm that icy wind fear
they exchange swap transfer me I accept their decisions I listened to them relieved freed their voices emphasized certain words I tried to understand them and to remember them I understood the word child I repeated it child they had called me child they shut me up in here the nightmare floor rolls pitches up then down fucks me in the night obscene dreams I must look around me and get up find some source of light of sound find something vertical to stand up straight against something horizontal to cuddle up tight against without being pitched about without puking no one will ever come in here again I sweat globules of fear electricity in the air a storm outside my heart beating so fast yellow wall sulphurous where the window gapes that would be on the outside of this scalding rain very soon the sky above and all around surrounding
the river flowed down there at the foot of the village beneath a bridge the houses set aslant a steep hill and there the sun stretched forth sprawling over the church steeple at the top and all the way down to the great meadow below crisscrossed with chalky roads dusty white paths leading into thick dark woods of chestnut and pine streams cut through the fields and water vipers black and shiny slashed through them where we went skinny-dipping we were scared of snakes but once we were playing ball holding circle jerks we forgot all about them gathering marsh rushes blue yellow iris a huge great meadow nearby tall grasses pressed flat from all our games
I’m able to stretch forth a hand to the right another to the left but I don’t touch anything the walls are too distant the floor is going to give way under me and drop me like an egg I don’t know where sucked dry
