Time may be, at the end of the day, just a long corridor immobilized in the matter, a train with no head or tail. The matter is slower than our humble steps. We run, dance, frolic, having no echoes but this silence higher than our natures, more immense than our hopes, just as profound as our ignorance.
The leaves do not seem to be ready to fade. However, by the end of September, they should already have a sense of the end. There are some of these unblemished autumns and this one may be one of them. The antlers will turn brown and will be bald by one or two gusts of wind. The next day, it will snow and we will not yet have our boots at our feet.
What are we? What do we do? What will we become? It is quite rare for us to ask ourselves these questions. They usually arise during times of crisis, when a hurricane comes to whip up life, when the ocean swells immensely, but also, sometimes, when everything seems calm on the surface, when under miles of oblivion a threatening plasma moves that we readily ignore.
I am made more of silence than flashes. I have told so little about winter, not at all about the spring that is coming to an end. My days were no less noisy, enriching, anxious, cloudy and blessed. The ordinary life of a man who feels the fatigue of near-finished duties.
I would like to engrave my steps in a benevolent ground that would show future generations that I have been there, that my soul, dressed in its ancestor's body, has bent over the footsteps of others, will have breathed an air that had already made thirty billion songs (I have counted them all), that there were, above these footsteps, dreams that were only wandering.
If a few atoms can destroy an entire city, imagine the power of the drugs that flow through our veins. I am easily surprised, my thinking is radioactive and unstable. The perimeter of a lamp reminds me of the bitter lips of a volcano, the contact of a body announces an epidemic of sensations.
Since life is a perpetual restart, it is necessarily constant oxidation. What-it-is no longer becomes. Sometimes, this is gradually reduced, slowly jammed, oxidized, and then stopped. But sometimes, the breakage occurs, and it is already no longer, in a great crash of indifference since it is now elsewhere.