Book "ABYSSINIA"

Soon two lines of mountains appear purple on the sky filled with a denouement of the tragedy: one falls off in front of Harar, sudden arab city, introverted as a saint, where nowhere find it better to bury the question of which Rimbaud invests.

Where are the photos of Rimbaud to Hara? Gone, like his poems? What became of his camera, that he has come at great expense to Lyon? As of musings about the look of Lange, in quest of him-even of that which has disappeared, and however holds under our eyes. Each face is a landscape, a report of the show. In each one, Lange has sought Rimbaud - who wrote in A season in hell: <the Ones I've met I have can not be seen>. It was his instinct of the time not counted in these Lights eternal from neighbouring India, which have formed its look, this emotional involvement of the artist in the mystery of harar to meet Rimbaud through those who have seen it, out of time, intact and stealth, and probably do not know: that our eyes follow, image-to-image, the curves of pottery, umbrellas, a jump rope, a roof conical, of a sickle, or an arcade, a headdress or a turban, cakes of injira, or a wicker basket - an apple, to know what dance it is, nothing less than this parade of wild found herself in a break of Noon.