It is not talking about the origin of this book, because this book, infinite, varied, diverse, always similar and always different, perpetual and changing, has existed from all eternity. Nothing has been discovered, everything has been found. But in the heart of this artifact everything changes, everything is transformed, everything evolves. These pages have not existed at any time or any place, the message itself has an origin and the magic emanating from each of its pages can never be trained.
At this point, there is nothing to do. It would be lovely to wait for the revolution of an admirable science.
This book is dedicated, in part, to all those punks of sectarian mentality and false morals, those who feed the annihilation of the individual and those who are part of a camouflaged class, who die of fear and grief with the idea of being isolated. To all those who do not violently reject the supporters of an absurd and pestilent elite.
To the loose dogs of abstract camaraderie that obstructs the spiritual, individual and cosmic revolution. To the victims of the revolution block, accomplices of permanent repression, duck-faced corpses and wild manners, all obstacles of the universal protest.