Make no mistake, innocence is important, whatever the cynics might tell tou. Anyone who whispers, It is time to put away childish things should not be trusted. Grown-up things are better? Please! They only say that to make themselves feel good about losing all that they valued when they were younger. In particular, a way of seeing the world unmarred by the petty failures and miseries of adulthood and all the bitterness and mistrust that engenders.
I always aimed to spend my whole life trying to keep my childhood with me; not the toys and the games, but the ability to see the wonder at the heart of the mundane. And I did try, but it’s been a long, hard fight, believe me. When you start out it’s impossible to guess the sheer enormity of the forces lined up against that mission. Those who have failed don’t want you to succeed because it makes their failure more acute to see what they’re missing. (Mark Chadbourne, The Fairy Feller’s Master-Stroke, 2002)

6h du mat’ ou dans ces environs. De l’autre côté de la vitre le ciel a coulé sur les toits, laiteux, la ville en pers, plate et froide. Je respire le bleu fragile du petit matin. Sur la cheminée de la boulangerie, le tourniquet lance des étincelles douloureuses. Le parquet brille aussi, ciré par la lactance qui s’écoule par l’étroite fenêtre du salon. Les trilles matinales des oiseaux, claires et acides, sont couvertes un instant par des croassements, sombres et ouatés. Assis un instant, je souffle, m’étire — encore un fichu cauchemar, dont je me suis tiré en sursaut. J’me fais trop d’films. Cette fois un vrai polar. Des tiraillements dans le cou et les yeux plein de sable, je retourne dormir. Si possible.