Tempestrousseau

The clock is dressed in drag, I mean it wears space instead of its own proper aspect but if it wore time, would it disappear isn't visibility an effect of transvestism, that shield pastime whose crosscasual aim unmasks the eye: must you assume the costume of the other to be here, to present the sense with an ess. . . Narcissus saw his guise decked out all ruse, but if there were none, what would our true clothes consist of, our rig rags, our regalia— Whose dapper element dons us: Einstein's continuum—or Flaubert's condence that, come the same, the Bovary c'est Moi?