Yet what counts, what is prodigious in this grotesque phenomenon, is this mad, indefatigable urgency, this ever recurring urgency which is such that at the final point and on the way out, one is still in a hurry, in a hurry to go on to the finish, a finish which is never final enough. At the top of the acute angle of a mad triangle, the final point will become the starting point for the base of another triangle whose final point will beget still another triangle which in turn...and so on indefinitely. The urgency is in no way abated by a third final point, or by a fourth, or by a tenth, or by a branch, simultaneously developing collateral images, or by the image of an ocean liner leaving the dock, or by an airplane taking off, or by a sudden rocket, or by an intercontinental rocket passing through the stratosphere, or by an interplanetary rocket passing beyond the bounds of terrestrial gravitation. No matter how far away it is, it has to launch another rocket, which in turn, pausing, launches another rocket, which in turn, pausing, launches another rocket, perpetual forward spurts to give free scope to the craving for departure, craving for going beyond, false rockets, in fact, all of them, abstract, diagrammatic, but no less eager to reach, by successive stages, an ever receding infinity.
