Behind the door life begins
I draw with the pencils of another
that is a surprise !
I will say to myself I don’t know
I might say to myself maybe
like many things that don’t last
the world will not change
and we will fall from our knees
at the end of long lines
which do like the cold
I would take refuge there on snowy and windy Sundays,
I would spend afternoons at the window with the wind
contemplating the ephemeral traces
the lessons to be drawn watching time
I guess that’s why I got up early, to see this peaceful moment, this absence of traces, this nothing on the river and, lonely on its threshold, a shrub that hopes.