she was weaving a story
it felt
good but the weft threads were shaking
memories were
interrupting the most beautiful dreams and
awakening
a sense of dizziness
Tous les articles par Sylvie Ge
ourdir son histoire
elle ourdissait une histoire
qui sentait
bon mais la trame tremblait
de souvenirs
interrompant les plus beaux rêves et
réveillaient
les malaises
what won’t cut it
feeling sorry for the world won’t cut it, just get on with the job of living one day at a time.
ce qui ne suffira pas
se sentir désolé pour le monde ne suffira pas, il faudra s’atteler à la tâche de vivre, un jour à la fois.
somebody else’s voice*
I close my eyes to listen to my roots, the roof over my head must be an illusion that will not hold up, I will take somebody else’s voice to fill the guest card and then lay down, exhausted, in my dark stories.