Haeck's intensity is such that he needs to use the fragment to complete an on-going project of finding his way to luminosity. Behind a deliberate modesty, the output is voluminous. Never boastful, Haeck introduces his prose as notes, poem-essay, poem, life-poem, life-novel, as if what he wrote did not merit adjectives such ?completed? or ?final?. He has invented a genre that was missing in Canada. The verse has prolonged itself into a regular paragraph. Fiction reads like a telecast, and reality made to look like conscientious invention. Instead of chapters, we are given numbered segments of an on-going discourse. The writer is not an outsider; he is one of the many who just happens to jot down notes to try to come up with some sort of understanding. He is writing, and the reader looks at the writer writing. This participatory element in this literary project is translucent and incandescent.