I have spent a lot of time in my bed, it seems to me, in the last year or two. I let Neptune teach me the lessons of invisibility, or rather the art of listening to the great Nothing/All - we may never know how to name our ignorance -. Then I patiently listened to Saturn remind me that I was at this stage of life or what is being created is a memory of what has already been created. It's Jupiter's turn, who wants me to fill my sails.
We do so many things through and for love. This heart that has its reason and this reason that listens to the walls of its body... The most recent tectonic movements of my heart, the constant fog in which my secrets move, the slow drift of my existence, I record the facts, try to connect the pieces of string without succeeding there, knots, here alliances.
I don't walk around anymore. I'm sorry about that, still overwhelmed by small and large tasks. Nevertheless, spring continued its early advance over Montreal. We have not had, so to speak, a winter here. I just used the shovel to clear the stairs. Fortunately, we also did not experience endless rains even though the sky was, it seems to me, greyer than usual during this season.
I pulled out my iPad, in the subway, opened a mind-mapping application to lay the first foundations of a novel. The subject is still too vague in my lazy little head, and probably also stuck to my reality. Since my story is still out there, it is difficult, even dangerous, to seek a conclusion.
With our blind ears, we tend to listen. It hides behind the living skins that prevent us from passing through; if we get too close, it ducks deeper into the interior of the soul's lands. It is free, will not be so easily captured. If it is forced to, it will not hesitate to leave the ship and take refuge in the aerial chance.