The body is that returning of oneself to the self.
Jean-Luc Nanci


Falling man.
I dream my falling body. Dreaming falls me deep with a definite step. 
My body not falling leaves space empty. 
This body is ending pure of everything commenced. It is my last property. It is the last that I want said. To fall my body is the last I will do. 
The falling body is pure essence. Falsify not, mixes with not. I choose it for it deceives me. As it is bearable not. It is the bewildered, exploded certainty. 
The beautifulest my body is when falling. The happiest my body is when falling. 
My body falling makes me seek high places, they give me long returns I need. Returning bodies are full of memory. 
When my body falls, it does not do what it is meant for. When I dream my fall, I exit the narrow dimension of time I inhabit. 
Nobody can take away my falling body. Nobody can fall instead of me. Nobody can return with me. We can only reach, arrive, rest, share, but never return. That is different. 
There are three pure forms of human body:
The first and purest is beginner's steps. 
The second power-most is pacing man. Third - figure of spirit - is falling. It is the body of spirit which frees the body. That is affirming beyond owns body, which even makes create a new one - falling. That body is a vehicle for sleep full of bright images. It has me thinking the world gravity free. Falling body is the ideal one. That is the immaculate man. It is the end expression of eternal truth. It is an open space, rather namely spacious ... body of mine is always ready for departure into the inevitability of a motion, of a falling, of a distancing, of one dispersion.