So states of un-satisfaction, objects which we see or which reveal an absence are the only performances to which the individual recovers in susceptible uniqueness. The city might fix it or establish it but I see it an existence of our own as a chance to see what the city must and can do, without the power to do it. It’s all very well and precise to say that Baudelaire had mysterious wishes to be like the stone in the statue without posing the ability. You cannot present the poet is eager to extract some petrifiable image from this of the past. But the images which he left are situated in a life which was open and infinite in Baudelaire’s sense of the word.