Nowadays a month has six weeks, does anyone know? Unfortunately, those who don’t even know the number five know it.
A baker and his loaves, the same ones he sells every day.
That day those loaves will have the shape of heads, heads seen from the front and the face will be my face.
The baskets on the wall overlooking the entrance full of bread, full of heads that lie down until someone picks them up and eats them… that day, that bread, with its unusual shape, is given away but without any money in return.
The light spending of unspent money, then, imposes an awkward gesture on us which is what bites into a face, which is what lifts the pocket.