With Eyes Closed

I sleep a lot. It’s prob­a­bly because of the fall, the vaca­tions, the accu­mu­lat­ed fatigue, the skin col­ored with ver­nac­u­lar craters, aging, the end of a world, mine or ours.

I am often immo­bile. It’s prob­a­bly for the same rea­sons and also because I don’t know what to do now. There are those days and nights when I have the feel­ing that I have walked around the gar­den. Every­thing I could do or accom­plish has been done. There are no more flow­ers to pick ; my foot­steps have tak­en me through land­scapes and jour­neys. That, under­neath them, the Earth remains the same.

My boat undu­lates on a silent ocean. With my eyes closed, I aus­cul­tate the stars pressed against the zodi­a­cal can­vas of my eye­lids. Per­haps I, too, am a star that illu­mi­nates the emp­ty sky of real­i­ty, a fire­fly look­ing for a com­pan­ion and risk­ing every­thing, even being devoured, to accom­plish its mis­sion of being a link in the chain.

Time, it is said, is not an arrow but a direc­tion. It stretch­es if it becomes too severe, runs out of breath if we pay no atten­tion to any­thing. Now all I have to do is wait until the stars decide to leave their ret­ro­grade posi­tions ? What do I have to live ? To understand ?

Isn’t it use­less to ask these ques­tions because it doesn’t bring any but­ter on our bread ? Am I con­demned to live only on food ? To pre­tend ? To wait, with closed doors, for the rise of an ulti­mate or pos­si­ble sun ?

My closed eyes are the spec­ta­cle of a day that belongs only to me. My eyes open, are like moons that seek to move the tides.

I sleep a lot, I wake up so lit­tle. Still, it is good to write it down.




  • Normand Sénéchal

    Normand Sénéchal 2020/10/07 13:27 0

    En plein dans le mille me reconnais dans ce questionnement, tu as mis de bien plus beaux mots que je ne l'aurais pu...
    On traverse un temps d'introspection et ta plume rend la tienne universelle.
    ET les photos choisies et manipulées de la sorte sont oeuvre en soi.