Within the incredible building site there exists a mystery which it is my assignment to unknot. Here lies my privilege, and consequently my obligation. It suffices to think that the architect holds the entire archive of the works. Then it suffices to wonder what could be made of it or deduced from it – what role thought could play. My own narrative may even be part of the mystery and may lead the way to its essential knot.
Not everyone is fortunate enough to fill one’s head with visions of the construction site of the Louvre of the desert. If there ever was a book to write, it would be that one. What more do I need to name the maximal book? What more than a desert and a universal museum that emerges in the desert? What more than the dome of the Louvre, which is an Eiffel tower with a revolutionary shape, but whose structure is still supported by four permanent towers?