I’ve heard the phrase between you and me too many times to believe it to be true, but between me and you there was Cocteau, wagging his testimonial finger, as usual, while flat out on the floor with my arms in receipt of the flower of thought, palms upwards, I envisaged the inside eyes of his hands remaking words for a song that is a drawing that is a film — that is, a poem; and in the middle of all this the books on the shelves float down while falling upwards, slipping out of their jackets as the naked petals of their pages turn into mirrors, which is to say, they blossom.
whats the thesis

Question

I’ve heard the phrase between you and me too many times to believe it to be true, but between me and you there was Cocteau, wagging his testimonial finger, as usual, while flat out on the floor with my arms in receipt of the flower of thought, palms upwards, I envisaged the inside eyes of his hands remaking words for a song that is a drawing that is a film — that is, a poem; and in the middle of all this the books on the shelves float down while falling upwards, slipping out of their jackets as the naked petals of their pages turn into mirrors, which is to say, they blossom.
whats the thesis