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Henri Michaux – Miserable Miracle Mescaline

From island to island, greater and greater slackening of speed.  Calmer too.  For the first time a face appears, if it is a face.  Two or three hundred alternate rows of eyes and lips, blubber lips that is, blubber lips,  blubber lips, blubber lips, blubber lips, blubber lips, and eyes slightly mongoloid, eyes, eyes, eyes, eyes, composed this face which kept gliding ceaselessly downward, each lower row disappearing, replaced by other rows appearing, of slanting eyes, or of great blubber lips, great blubber lips,  great blubber lips, great blubber lips, great blubber lips, great blubber lips, with  fleshy ridges like a rooster's comb but not nearly so red.  And they were undecipherable, the eyes, very narrow under immense heavy lids, slightly tremulous.  And all this enormously rectangular, in fact like a moving carpet with the thickness and volume totally imperceptible, or rather seeming to be of the same thickness all over, the thickness of a comfortable carpet in which the eyes and lips were not so much in relief as excrescences, wasps' bellies, innumerable bellies, pinned there and still quivering.  And the endless belt kept rolling with its enigmatic eyes, and you couldn't decide which one to watch more than another.  There was a slight incline and the width of the face that kept rolling by was that of a moderately wide street, its height in proportion.