emile nelligan in these post modern times

The trees in heartbreaking bloom with husks from the buds falling down on me sitting on a park bench in Carré Saint Louis nearby the Emile Nelligan statue in the clear light of noon looking up at the face of the statue.
It doesn’t faintly resemble the face of a boy driven insane at the age of 19.
Theres nothing of the spirit of a tormented visionary in the sculpturer’s dis-interpretation.
He simply produced a conventional mask of convention as required by a committee of municipal functionaires.
Nelligan as an idealized arts administrator pondering another career decision in public