I am suddenly alone because the sky is blue, the tree green, the street quiet, and because a dog, who is as alone as I am, is walking in front of me. I am moving slowly but with a firm step. I think it is nighttime. The landscapes I discover, the houses with advertisements on them, the posters, the shopwindows I pass as a sovereign, are of the same stuff as the characters of this book, of the visions I discover when my mouth and tongue are occupied in the hairs of a bronze eye, visions in which I think I recognize a recurrence of my childhood love of tunnels. I sodomize the world. ~Jean Genet, Funeral Rites.