Writing
The 'yet written; is yelling. From whence this desire to be a 'primary' text? Someone somewhere will study anything that believes in itself enough to have held everything horrid and beautiful in the world at a distance for long enough that a troglodyte was able to develop in its own in its little cave somewhere off in the middle of a dream sequence.
The trick is obvious; live within the minorities and report bolstering and beautifying cries of Joyce, Proust, Beckett, Lawrence, Miller, Blake, and Kafka.
The page as the work of highest art.