ABSTRACT
Since I have been asked, I confess, ‘À l’écrit bâté’ is a fragment of what Jean-François Lyotard baptised his Lettre perpétuelle to me: pages hastily scratched, prose poems, all private or hidden letters in public texts – like the one published in Nouvel Observateur in 1985, entitled ‘Il te salue, Marie’ (after ‘Hail Mary’ (week of 10 May 1985)) – addressed to me. The secret diary of our love was long an underground figure and will continue to be secret.
