Voice
The voice speaks point-blank, without oratorical warmth. Irony doesn't save — it cuts. The reader feels the responsibility of looking: you can't turn your eyes away.
Image
The images are made of objects: the metro, the mask, rain out of a fridge. Surrealism comes from the shift of the familiar, not from a stock of “strange” words.
Rhythm
Short line, pause, break. The rhythm is bodily. It forces slow reading even on short texts.
The ethics of form
Form serves the refusal of anesthesia. Beauty is allowed if it doesn't lie. The poetics of this book is a discipline of truth inside language.