Bodies split, as the  Mirroir   hexagon  opens to the cloudy  ciel . There are noises up there... the sounds of planes trying to find their way back to the airport they forgot they left... round and round and round, the pilots sleeping only during the occasional aerial refueling.     Alors n'emportant avec moi que la télévision des abeilles et mes pensés, je me suis enfoncé dans le désert.