For a long time I wished life to be as well organised as the directions found on this wall (but it does not work that way).
It was hard to find a place in the crowd to make a difference, any one, to find a niche, a speech in her single and isolated cell. Once she lost herself in the anonymity of the crowd without looking for her place, she lost herself in the details. hey have been looking for her since, and have occasionally found her.
To follow the same road every day, to reach the same place, inexorably attracted by a small quay, the smallest of the quays, the one that goes nowhere, it is going somewhere.
* first published in April 2017, modified in April 2019
Let’s suppose it is summer and a perfume of flower is evaporating in the air. Dry. Some regrets on the porch of the church and a tui claiming its freedom.
Light festival, Nelson, June 2018, canon, ©Sylvie G Lire la suite nasty people live longer