ONE<br >"Putting life in the service<br > of the unconscious."<br > Maurice Nadeau，<br >TIRE HISTORY OF SURREALISM<br > The flea market in Saint-Ouen: war medals， glass<br >taxidermists eyes， a bicycle wheel， a leopard s skin， a pack of<br >cards， an acrobat s costume (for HEl~ne?) with half the pink<br >sequins gone. Up ahead Andre Breton and Louis Aragon<br >were arguing animatedly: a short decisive exclamation mark<br >and a cool tall question mark. Andre was waving his heavy，<br >knobbed cane. Robert St. Onge hung back， watching them<br >from a distance. A phonograph player. Were there record-<br >ings too? Aha. There were.<br > Around him women pushed their babies in prams and<br >haggled over the price of chairs. A boy tripped over the<br >pavement and fell， screaming. A man---he d seen that man<br >before--walked by singing an obscene song in a foreign<br >accent. Robert picked up records at random， unconcerned，<br ><br >